Let The Game Begin
by CescaLR
Summary: Ron died during the battle of Hogwarts. Given options, Ron jumps at a second chance to do it all over again. Of course, this time things are a lot more different than he'd expected. But, well. When aren't they? Gamer!Ron.
1. Chapter 1

**_Notes:_**

 ** _OOPS._**  
 ** _My hand slipped._**

* * *

There was many a thing Ron had expected during his life.

Dying young was, unfortunately, one of these things.

 _Why?_ You ask, and he would (never) answer, _It's a bloody miracle the second wizarding war had a break when it did._

(A miracle he wasn't born into a world that Voldemort ruled over.)

 _I was one, when Harry offed You-Know-Who._

(He'd been born the same year his uncles had died. A shining light, his mum said. A light for her to see in the darkness of grief.)

 _Obviously, I don't remember. I do remember the years of hearing about 'the Boy-Who-Lived'; about some kid who was our hero._

 _I met him ten years later, and he honestly was nothing like those bloody books and fairy tales everyone told everyone, loudly and in hushed whispers._

(Harry doesn't know that some parents used his name to scare their children into being good little boys and girls, and they bloody well better be, or he'd off em like he did He-Who-Must-Not-Be named.

Ron, being the only one of Harry's very, very small group of friends that had been born and raised in the magical community, managed to keep him ignorant of that.)

So yeah. Ron had expected some kind of early death during his life; he'd never really thought the war had been over anyway.

(No thanks to his paranoid Great Uncle. Bilius was a bloody good chess player, though. Ron had beat him, and he'd proclaimed himself well and truly done for (since Ron had been nine, at the time, and that was rather humiliating, to say the least) and gave Ron his chess set.

Ron didn't know the significance at the time. He still doesn't to this day.)

 _I wasn't sure when I'd die. There've been loads of times when it could've happened. First year, Second year… All the bloody years, really. Merlin's beard._

(Ron knew he had to be at least fairly lucky, to have escaped death as many times as he had during their 'adventures'.)

 _So yeah. Maybe I did expect to die young. What of it? Harry did to, you know. S'pose most people don't; dunno why, seems bloody obvious to me._

(Far, far too obvious. But then, that had been their lives. Outsiders might be horrified; but Ron, Harry and Hermione? It was just par for the course.)

(Ron wasn't bloody stupid though. Yeah, maybe a bit dense, but if he had the chance to do things again?

He'd leave Hermione out of it, best he could.)

 _Wasn't expecting it to be that bloody snake though._

(Nagini, she'd (It was a she right?) lunged for them. Neville'd been too late – 'Mione and him were done for.

 _Well. At least me, anyway._

(He'd covered her as best he could. He vaguely remembers the snake biting, and Hermione's profuse sobbing.

 _He'd leave her out of it_.)

 _Wait. I'm thinking, right? If I was dead, That wouldn't be happening, I'd wager._

Blinking, (He could blink?) Ron gained his sight back. What had been simply black nothingness, now was a white expanse, a cavernous room.

He blinked again, and the area changed to one he recognised.

 _The trapdoor._ He noticed. _I'm in Fluffy's room. Third floor corridor. The hell?_

Spinning around slowly on the spot, Ron took notice of his options. Before he could decide anything though, a voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Well, if it ain't my great nephew." The voice spoke, rough and gruff and yet somehow warm and comforting.

He spun back around, to see a man he hadn't seen since he was ten.

"Uncle Bilius." He replied in greeting, oddly unsurprised.

Ron looked around again. "Where are we?"

The old man rolled his eyes. "Well, where d'ya think, Ronald?" He asked, rhetorically. "Limbo, ain't it?" His uncle looked around, confused. "Some room in 'Ogwarts, I'd wager." Ron stared. "Limbo?" Bilius looked upwards, as if exasperated. "Yeah, Limbo. Place between life an' death, if I ain't so mistaken." He looked at Ron. "Bit of an odd place for transitioning, though I suppose it makes sense for ya."

Ron blinked. "Makes sense?" He echoed.

"Did'ya lose all common sense when 'Ah left?" He demanded. "Blimey! First fam'ly member that cares enough for me ta be the one to talk to yeh, and y've lost yer bleedin' _logic._ " He complained. "What 'appened to that kid who beat a Chess Master when 'e was littler than I were when I started learnin'? What 'appened to yeh common sense?"

Ron grew angry. "My bloody _common sense_ is where I left it – _when I wasn't dead_."

There was a pause, then the old man laughed; a good, large belly-laugh that lasted a good while. The man shook his head. "Ya chose a right old codger to grow up like, didn't ya?"

Ron looked at him, confused. "Yeh remind me of myself when I was your age. Short tempered, not the brightest with emotions, but loyal to a fault. I didn't 'ave that great walloping of self-esteem issues and the jealousy that comes with though. Interfered with ya friendships that did, didn't it?"

Ron was reluctant to admit he was right, but he felt a sense of calmness he had never felt while alive. There was a pause. "This place is messing with my head, isn't it?"

His Uncle grinned. "Don't want ya messin' up the place – or your choice, thinkin' about it."

There was another, longer pause.

"My choice?" Ron inquired.

Bilius nodded, once, an incline of his head. "Yer choice." He repeated. "Yeh can go on, or yeh can live a new life. If ya choose the second – well. I'll let'cha see what that's all 'bout."

 _He's being as bloody vague as the Headmaster was on his better days._ Ron grumbled to himself.

As if he could hear Ron's thoughts, His Great Uncle smiled. "I gotta go soon – us dead people 'ave a lot more to do than you livin' lot give us credit for. But I need ta tell ya this – the trapdoor'll lead you _on_ , but the exit – well. That's the _Exit_ , ain't it?" And with that, and a blink of Ron's eyes later, his dead relative was gone.

"Well. Bugger." Ron muttered to himself. What kind of choice is this? "Won't even tell me what I'll get myself into if I do chose a new life." For a moment, he thinks. _If I go down the trapdoor – which isn't ominous about my fate if I do, bloody hell – I'll see my friends and family when they all kick the bucket too, right? And I suppose there's already a few of them there now, including Bilius. No idea who's died already though._

But instead of the option that would give him peace, peace for eternity with friends and family once they arrive, Ron hesitated.

 _What if it lets me do this again?_

(Because that's the question, isn't it? Whether it will send him home – if slightly different – or it will send him to some other life, unknowing and not remembering his last.)

Ron nods to himself, a decision made.

(For better, or for worse? We shall see.)

He turns around, walks towards the Exit door. With one last look, one final goodbye, he leaves the trapdoor behind.

(He starts his Next Adventure. _Headmaster may have been barmy as all hell, but he wasn't wrong about this._ )

The door closes shut behind him, and the room fades to a white expanse.

(It fades to blue, then shuts off. Black, and void. Ron wasn't there to see it. He wouldn't have recognised what it was, even if he were – pureblooded he is, and all that entails.)

* * *

Ron blinks to awareness, staring up at the orange ceiling of his room at the burrow.

 _Bloody hell_ he mentally groans. _My head feels like it's been wacked one too many times with a bludger._

 _Wait._

Ron looks around – and notices the ceiling isn't actually orange; that must have just been memory talking. No, it's grey – the whole room is grey and tones of grey, black and white.

(It's greyscale, but then Hogwarts doesn't teach 'muggle' subjects; so how would he know that?)

Ron looks around. He notes the differences between this room and his room – a chest where one isn't, no bed (What had he been lying on?), his stack of comics now a… weird, muggle machine (that was it, right? Hermione had been teaching him…) with buttons and things – _A computer, Ronald._ Her voice says, annoyed yet somehow infinitely fond – and various other small changes.

Ron stands, and walks over to the 'computer'. Warily, he pokes at one of the buttons, and the thing whirrs to life, making him back away slightly.

When it is up and running, Ron sits down in front of it, on the floor, and stares at the… screen? Screen.

 _Options._

It says, a neat kind of writing he'd never seen, all the letters exact and matching.

(Print. It was print.)

He continues reading.

 _Options:_

 _Difficulty._

 _Extras._

 _Language._

 _Play style._

Frowning, he thinks, _Difficulty? Play style? What on Merlin's bloody –_

Before he could finish that thought, A floating bit of parchment obscures his view. Swearing, Ron jumps back, startled, the parchment always staying in the direct centre of his view.

Once adjusted, Ron reads the parchment.

 _Gaming for Wizards; A helpful guide by !%% &$£%&_

Blinking, he tried to read the last word, but after a minute or so gave up.

It was just a mess of things he didn't understand, muggle symbols by the look of them.

Shaking his head, he moved on.

 _This floating bit of parchment is known as an 'alert'. For you, [Ronald Weasley] these will always be enabled, as you are a [pureblood noob] and therefore have literally zero knowledge of video games. Christ, this is going to be ridiculous, isn't it? Teaching you what most kids in the muggle world have at least a slight grip on; in that they at least know vaguely what a video game is in the first place!_

 _Never mind all that. Sorry. Let's move on. Since this is all voice-commanded, just say 'next' to see the rest of this guide._

Ron did so, and did so, reading each page and trying his best to absorb all the information he had a nagging feeling he'd need to know.

It took a while (Hours, days, minutes, months, centuries, nanoseconds) but he was finallydone, and he knew the basics of the system.

Nodding to himself, he said "Close" and the message went away silently, there one moment and gone the next.

Ron went back to the options menu, and selected difficulty.

 _Casual._

 _Easy._

 _Normal._

 _Hard._

 _Hardcore._

 _Realistic._

 _Real life._

Ron read through all of the descriptions, and immediately excluded hard, and all those afterwards.

The options were then greyed out, no longer available unless unlocked.

(The guide had been incredibly useful. Now he knew what he was doing, at least. Far more than what he'd known originally.)

Deciding that Casual was too easy (and too much of a copout) that option greyed out as well, and he got a message in the top left of his peripheral vision saying _You gained an Achievement! Say [Open] to know what it was._

Ignoring the message for now, and feeling a little bit like a cheat, he picked easy.

(Ron figured he could bring it up to normal, once he'd gotten the hang of everything. And since his life was in danger, here, he figured it wasn't too cowardly.)

Exiting the menu, he called out "Open" and the message disappeared. Like before, in front of him in the centre of his vision something appeared. It wasn't parchment; since that was for alerts. Instead, it was a book, and it flipped through it's pages until it got to the one on Achievements.

 _You have unlocked [1] Achievement(s)._

 _The Achievements are greyed out and unknown until you unlock them. We have been told it can take many games until all have been revealed._

 _Unlocked Achievements [1]:_

 _No Time For Downtime._

 _Description;_

 _Well done! You aren't a complete coward, and actually want some form of challenge in your life. There is no reward for this, aside from the knowledge that you didn't choose the easy way out._

 _Requirements;_

 _Grey out 'Casual' in the options, difficulty menu._

 _Locked Achievements: [?]_

Nodding to himself, Ron closed down the menu. The book closed, then shrunk down and disappeared in a flash of golden sparks.

Ron returned to the menu.

 _Options:_

 ** _Difficulty_**

 _Extras._

 _Language._

 _Play style._

Understanding that difficulty would be greyed out once he'd selected it before starting, he moved onto play style, which is what he had been told was the best thing to got to straight after.

He clicked on play style, and was confronted with a few options.

 _Action/RPG_

 _Strategy/RPG_

 _Action/Strategy_

There were more, but they had been greyed out. Noticing the little star thing next to all of them, he wondered what that meant.

An alert blocked his view again.

Blinking at the closeness of it, it took a few seconds to adjust.

Ron then read the words on the parchment.

 _Oh, right. Forgot to mention that in my guide, sorry. So, these little 'star things' *; they're called asterisks and are there when something might need explaining; since you chose easy level, they will always be there even after you've read them for the first time, in case you forget or something._

Ron nodded, and the alert dissipated into the air.

Obviously, Ron ignored the ones that didn't have 'strategy' in the title.

(The others were greyed out.)

 _Strategy/RPG*_

 _*Strategy RPG is a combination of Strategy; a game style requiring, well, strategic know-how and is a good choice for those good at strategy games such as, for example, chess._

 _RPG is 'role-play games' in that your character has stats and abilities, and will level up. You will also have traits; which as you level can be bought back and swapped out or gained. You can change them at any time you have enough points to, but every five levels you will gain ten points (more or less, depending on stats) that let you do what you will. There are also quests; which will grant you rewards and EXP – experience; which you can put into stats. Skill/Ability Points are gained every two levels, depending on stats the amount gained will change. Traits can also effect skill/ability point and experience gain. Points, either ability or trait, can be found simply by exploring or completing major quests/events. Events are spontaneous quests that you cannot sign up for but will instead stumble across. Jobs are similar to quests, except you only gain money and experience in Skills. Skills are your skills; ability to fight, cook, speak other languages, etc. Abilities are special skills; in that they cannot be learnt, only bought through levelling or finding ability/skill points scattered throughout instances. Instances are the open areas which you will be in in each part of the game; for you the first instance is the Burrow; the first base is Ron's Room; the first medic is Mrs. Weasley/Mum, and the first teachers are your older brothers, and your Dad/Mr. Weasley._

 _Mrs. Weasley is also the shop for general items and the food vendor; she can also give jobs and quests and teach cooking and ways to look after your household. Mr. Weasley is the shop for muggle items, and some other (technically) illegal things. He can teach enchanting (After book one ends, during the Summer) and Vaguely Muggle Knowledge (Some is true, some is not. +5 to Muggle Knowhow skill per lesson.)_

 _There are 1000 levels per skill, 10 per ability, and infinite per stat._

 _On easy level, you may respawn at your Base, or in the Medic area if necessary. You will carry gained skill/ability/traits and experience (with a -100 to the experience) between respawns. All things will carry across save games, aside from items/done quests._

Ron deliberated for a moment, then read the other option. Deciding he'd had enough action for one life, and the bonuses of the RPG genre were better, he chose Strategy/RPG.

The other options were greyed out, and he was booted back to the options menu.

Seeing only language and extras left, he quickly set language to British English and entered the Extras section.

E _xtras are things you unlock during the game after completing specific tasks, much like Achievements. They are enabled through the options menu during gameplay._

Shrugging, Ron exited that menu, knowing he could do nothing there for now.

After doing so, the computer poofed out of existence, and his comic book stack was back where it should be.

Seeing the trunk had a large padlock on it, and the other menu places were greyed out or otherwise unavailable, (Including the Player Character menu; but then since he'd picked RPG and one of the benefits was picking your own Avatar he wasn't surprised) he walked to the door and placed his hand on the handle.

An alert popped into view.

 _Would you like to start a new game, or load an old save?_

Load was greyed out, as he had expected, so he selected new game.

Stepping through the door, he found himself in the bathroom, set up how his mother would set it up when she was giving them all haircuts.

Walking towards the mirror, he was given the option to change his appearance. Shrugging, as he'd never much cared really, but was intrigued all the same, he clicked yes.

He was presented with a ridiculous amount of options, and baulked until he saw the _basic character creation menu_. Clicking on that, the options were lessened.

Not much, but at least there weren't any options for _nose salion_ (That was probably wrong, but he didn't care) or any other bloody strange option he didn't get.

There was a section for bonuses from his current build/body type/appearance, and to be brutally honest they weren't great.

 _Gangly frame._

 _Body Type/Build. Description:_

 _Tall, ain't 'cha? Big boned, but not broad shouldered, you don't really seem to fit your body until you become of age._

 _\- 3 to co-ordination (lessens by one per two years.)_

 _\- 3 to certain activities until age = 17 (Quiditch, spell casting, potioneering, basically any activity that requires co-ordination. +2 to Keeping – all that extra arm length has to be good for something, right?)_

 _-2 to Attractiveness, + 1 when over age = 17_

 _Gives; Height Advantage, Clumsiness, Good Reach, Easily Spottable, Not Much Fits._

Ron sighed, knowing all of these disadvantages – having had them most of his life. (He hadn't really thought about the advantages though. It was something to think about now, since he could change it.)

 _Averagely Average;_

 _Description._

 _Not the best looking, but not too shabby neither. Decidedly average appearance._

 _+/- 0 to Attractiveness._

 _Gives; Blend In*, Who Was That Again?*_

 _Ron, confused by the bonuses, asked for them to be explained._

 _Blend In*_

 _Well, ain't you average?_

 _Gives; +2 to Hide In Plain Sight ability, gives Hide In Plain Sight ability. Doesn't Level._

 _Hide In Plain Sight;_

 _Ability. Description:_

 _Considering your looks, it's not odd that you can disappear amongst the crowd._

 _Gives; + 5 to stealth in public places. At level 4/8, gain buff. +5 per level._

 _Who Was That Again?*_

 _Ability. Description:_

 _Either your looks, or your family background decrees that it would take more than a glance to remember your face. Or recognise it._

 _Gives; +2 to stealth in restricted areas. -5% chance to be caught doing things that are… untoward. Each level adds +2 and -5%. At level 5 and 10, a new buff is added._

Ron was both surprised and confused by these bonuses; he'd always been very recognisable, considering his red hair and pretty much everything else about him made it obvious he was a Weasley.

Looking at the next one, he realised why.

 _Distinctive Heritage._

 _You sir, are definitely related to who you're related to._

 _Subclass; Weasleys' Son._

 _You are your family's child; red hair, freckles, that annoying mark on your nose that looks like dirt. Definitely a Weasley._

 _Negates*; Blend In, Who Was That Again?_

 _*Only active when in the Wizarding World of Great Britain._

 _Gives*; Instant Recognition, Ginger? Soulless._

 _*The former is only active in the wizarding world of Great Britain. The latter is only recognised by those with 'Gingers? Soulless.', the companion trait._

Ron, now a little angry, demanded explanation.

 _Gingers? Soulless._

 _A muggle belief few hold – mostly used as a joke. Those who have 'Gingers? Soulless' believe it wholeheartedly._

 _The idea that if you have red hair, you have no soul. It's stupid, I know, but there you are._

Ron sighed, and looked at his other options.

It took a few, lengths of time he doesn't know – it could have been seconds, it could have been days – until he'd decided.

 _Tall Frame, Balanced Build._

 _Build/Body Type. Description;_

 _Not so shabby. You're tall, but you aren't gangly, thank Merlin. Your balanced build means you will start out doing decently in each area._

 _+1 to co-ordination (You need it, considering how often you'd whack people in the face without it.)_

 _-2 to stealth. (You're at least a head taller than most. Pretty easy to spot, that is.)_

 _+1 to attractiveness, then +3 when Str/End/Vit is above 50, or you are over age = 20. (Tall, and broad shouldered, it seems you managed to inherit the Weasley's good looks, rather than their Gangly-ness. Thank Merlin.)_

 _Gives; Height Advantage, Good Reach, Easily Spottable, Some Stuff Fits._

 _Averagely Average;_

 _Appearance. Description._

 _Not the best looking, but not too shabby neither. Decidedly average appearance._

 _+/- 0 to Attractiveness._

 _Gives; Blend In*, Who Was That Again?*_

Ron was perfectly fine with this; it would help them during seventh year if things pan out similarly and they have to hide in the muggle world.

(But not camping again, Merlin not camping.)

Now, for the hard part. Does he sacrifice his recognisability – which comes in handy sometimes – for the ability to be more… useful, when it comes to their… adventures?

Yeah. Alright.

 _Indistinctive Heritage._

 _Subclass; Trait; Prewitt Puer._

 _Your light brown, almost ginger hair isn't all that recognisable as a Weasley trait, or a trait at all, for that matter. Good on you, your averageness is astounding._

 _+/- 0 to attractiveness._

 _Gives; none._

 _Negates; none._

Though it doesn't give him anything, it doesn't negate anything either, so Ron's fine with using his mother's heritage rather than his dad's.

Sighing, he says "Done" and the window closes.

Blinking at his reflection in the mirror, which looks similar yet different, he couldn't really tell what his heritage was.

"Good." Ron said to himself. "Right. Bloody hell, what's next?"

Before he could do anything, an alert popped up.

 _Right, you've done the thing. Good. Now, select your Stats, your traits and starting abilities – but be careful! You need to balance out your starting traits; you can have as many as you can afford of the ones requiring level 0, but you have to have at least three negative/balanced traits, and at least one negative trait. It's to stop the game from being to easy, even on easy difficulty. At least you get wholly good traits; higher levels lock them out! Good luck; and remember, at the end, an alert will pop up detailing your Character, and afterwards you will be able to access the Char. Sheet; where you will be able to access all the things later. Cool? Cool._

The alert went away after he'd read it, and Ron went over to the chair in which he'd had many a hair-cut. However, that was not it's purpose right now. Instead, a menu popped up – the detailed stats chooser.

Ron shrugged, and checked what he started out with.

 _Ron Weasley. Lvl. 0. EXP – 1000. EXP – 50 / stat._

 _Each stat requires 100 general EXP to level, and 50 EXP of its type to level._

Ron frowned. That might be a problem.

 _You have enough to level up to ten in one, or seven in each with some left over. You can, of course, lean towards certain stats. MP and HP are different types of stats; you may level them with only EXP of the general sort. The guide should have told you what each entails._

Ron nodded. He was fairly certain he understood the stats system.

 _Str: 3 Int: 2 Wiz: 4 Vit: 5 Chr: 2 End: 4 Lck: 6 MP: 100 HP: 200_

 _These are general stat levels for someone of your age (10, nearly 11). Your Luck is higher than most, and Int is on the lower side of average. Vit. Above average, but not over much. 3-4 is average. Some children, such as [Harry Potter] will have, say, Str:5 and End:8, because of their life situation, but have Vit:2, because of it as well._

Ron nodded. Makes sense.

 _Your Int. is low because a) a lack of need/drive to improve, and b) self-esteem issues._

 _Your Chr. Is low, because a) you have a temper and b) one of your traits is affecting it._

Annoyed, Ron moved on.

 _Hint: I would check the Traits/Skills/Abilites sheets first; some give boosts while other's have requirements._

Nodding, Ron did so. The first one he went to was the trait section; define himself before defining what he could do and all that.

 _Traits._

 _Trait points; 20._

 _Early game traits cost little; but good traits cost more than balanced, and balanced cost more than negative. Get me? Good._

 _Owned Traits;_

 _Prewitt Puer [Caused by; Appearance.]_

 _Light Is Good, Dark is Bad* [Can't buy back; requirements not met]_

 _Dumbledore's Wo/Man [Group trait; many others have this, including [Harry Potter] and [The Weasley Family]] [Can't buy back; requirements not met.]_

 _Stubborn [buy back – 6 points.]_

 _Slimy Slytherins* [buy back – 6 points]_

 _Goody Gryffindors* [buy back – 5 points]_

 _Hufflepuff? Schmufflepuff.* [buy back – 3 points]_

 _Self-Righteousness. [buy back – 5 points.]_

 _Loyal – To A Fault [Locked trait. Caused by; avatar – Ron Weasley.]_

 _Self-esteem? Yeah, you have Issues.* [Locked trait, caused by; Family Situation]_

 _Jealously Juvenile* [Linked trait. Caused by: Self-Esteem? Yeah, You have Issues]_

 _No Tones Of Grey* [Linked trait. Caused by 'Light is Good, Dark is Bad.']_

 _Chess Master [Locked Trait. Caused by; Avatar – Ron Weasley.]_

 _Strategic Mindset [Locked Trait. Caused by; Chess Master.]_

 _Emotional Range Of A Teaspoon* [Linked Trait. Caused by; Strategic Mindset, Chess Master.]_

 _Casanova? Ha!* [Linked Trait. Caused by; Emotional Range Of A teaspoon]_

 _Bloody Hell!* [Locked Trait. Caused by; Avatar – Ron Weasley.]_

 _Arachnophobia [Locked trait; caused by – Fred & George Weasley]_

 _At this age, most traits have not developed yet. Many traits are locked until after age = 14; as, according to the – ahem, according to your previous life, that is when you went through puberty. Lovely. That'll be fun for you a second time, eh?_

 _Available traits, Lvl 0:_

 _Child prodigy._

 _Balanced. Definition:_

 _You are such a whiz kid, wow!_

 _+5 to Int; however gain linked trait Know-It-All. +1 to Wiz, unless in dire situations. +10 to Theoretical Knowledge Skill, -10 to Practical Application. [shared trait; you have discovered [Hermione Granger] has this.]_

 _Cost – 3 points._

 _Fate's Plaything._

 _Balanced, I guess. Description._

 _Never knew what to do with your life? Never fear! Fate either likes you, or has it in for you. We aren't really sure. +15/-15 bonus on Luck Rolls; however, gain the linked traits; Danger Magnet, Nine Lives, Danger? Schmanger, Destiny's Chosen. Gain Prophecy. [Shared trait; you have discovered [Harry Potter, Voldemort] have this trait.]_

 _Cost – Free._

Ron blinked. Those actually made a lot of sense, now that he thought about it.

 _Emotional Understanding._

 _Good. Description;_

 _Your parents raised you well, it seems. Your emotional range is more of a soup ladle, now!_

 _Gain; +1 to Charisma. +1 to skill; Sympathy._

 _Negates; Emotional Range Of A Teaspoon._

 _Costs = 5 points._

Sighing, Ron picked that one, because he figured if Hermione wasn't there, he might need to be a bit better about that whole thing. Grimacing, he noted the 15 points remaining. Rather than spend them on traits, he bought back Self-Righteousness, and Slimy Slytherins – Because Harry could have been one, and there's no way he's abandoning him if he is this time around. And the Self-Righteousness had to have something to do with his various stupid choices throughout the years.

They were gone now, and since (sadly) most of his traits were either balanced, or negative, (he could figure out what they meant on his own, thanks) he didn't have to worry about buying negative ones.

Quickly, he picked up _Quick Learner_ and, more to cheer him up from the fact that he couldn't get rid of his fear of spiders than anything else, gained _natural flyer._

(The first is self-explanatory, and the second simply gave him better flying skills and a higher skill gain for related skills, such as Quiditch.)

Sitting at a sad 0 trait points, and no way to redeem them, Ron moved on to abilities.

Noting his lack of any, and feeling slightly miffed, Ron decided on some cheap ones (as he'd seen some he might want at level one).

He picked _parseltounge_ , though it made him feel uncomfortable, just so that secret conversations were actually possible in Hogwarts (at least, between him and Harry. It'd be dead useful making plans and not getting caught doing so – something that had happened far too much in Ron's last life for his liking.)

Ron really wasn't sure of the differences between traits and abilities, but it doesn't matter, truthfully.

Shrugging, he chose _Controllable Accidental Magic_ – mainly because he'd felt slightly embarrassed at making it snow that one time, in the middle of the great hall. (It said it was shared, but he didn't know who by. Doesn't matter.)

Ron noticed _Un_ controllable Accidental Magic – saw that Harry had that and Emotional Accidental Magic, and Accidental Magic Regardless Of Age (Which, apparently, he'd also had – so he simply took that one as well.)

To be honest, that explained a lot. Ron sniggered.

Knowing he could get the rest at a later date, he hesitated between the last two.

Deciding to throw caution to the wind, he chose _Sentient Wand_ – in that, his wand would come to his rescue at times it's needed, shooting off spells and saving the day.

(Ron had thought it funny. That was literally the only reason.)

Done here, Ron went to skills.

Not particularly caring, or wanting to, he put some points in learning skills – simply so the Hermione conscience nagging him to do well at school this time around, since it wouldn't do to be outdone by a bunch of firstees (ignoring he'd be one – since he'd lived through all of this previously, sort of) would it?

(The conscience wasn't really Hermione, obviously, but it sounded like her and was nagging him to do schoolwork. He might be crazy, who knows?)

So yeah. He put some points into _Knowledge Inhaling_ , meaning he'd gain knowledge quicker, and _Schoolwork? Schmoolwork._ Which simply made it easier.

Once he was done with the knowledge based ones, he put some points into fighting skills, like _Duelling,_ etc. etc.

Once he was done with all that, he honestly didn't have that many left.

Shrugging, he put the remainder into _Strategy_ and _Spellcasting, Flying_ and _People Reading_.

He figured that last one was about understanding how people work, or maybe seeing their character sheet. Either way, it would make it easier to judge a person properly.

Nodding to himself, he went back to his stats sheet, and found himself shocked.

 _Ron Weasley. Lvl. 0. EXP – 1000. EXP – 50 / stat._

 _Each stat requires 100 general EXP to level, and 50 EXP of its type to level._

 _You have enough to level up to ten in one, or seven in each with some left over. You can, of course, lean towards certain stats. MP and HP are different types of stats; you may level them with only EXP of the general sort._

 _Str: 4 Int: 4 Wiz: 5 Vit: 5 Chr: 4 End: 5 Lck: 6 MP: 100 HP: 200_

A _tt. (Attractiveness) is locked until past age = 14. According to Word Of God, that is when everyone in the Harry Potter universe goes through puberty, apparently._

 _Due to appearance; Will start at +1, unless prerequisite requirements have been met for +3. Can change throughout the years. If not, when age = of age, you will gain +3._

Ron sighs. He rolls his eyes, then puts his points into the stats.

 _Str: 5 Int: 5 Wiz: 6 Vit: 6 Chr: 5 End: 6 Lck: 8 MP: 250 HP: 250_

Ron nods to himself. "Seems alright." He mutters, then closes the menu. He feels himself booted out of the room, back to staring at the door with an alert in front of his face and his hand on the doorknob.

Would you like to start the game?

"Yeah. Yes." Ron says, the Alert going at 'yes'.

 _Would you like to do the tutorial? That will be the first ten years of your life._

Ron grimaces.

 _You may shorten it; and have the year from after your Uncle Bilius' funeral to when you turn eleven. Is this preferable?_

Ron was still grimacing at the reminder, but nodded his acceptance.

 _Short Tutorial; Easy Mode; Strategy/RPG; Custom Character._

 _Enter Player's Name:_

Ron blinked, then spoke, hesitantly (He'd always thought 'Ronald' never suited him. At least he could change that now.)

"Ron Bilius Weasley?"

The alert changed.

 _Is 'Ron Bilius Weasley' Correct?_

"Yes."

 _Then The game shall start, in five, four, three, two…_

 _One._

Ron lurched forwards, pulled through the door by some unseen force, and felt himself falling, falling through the endless void.

He landed, there was a sickening _crack!_ And all went black.

* * *

Ron blinked himself to awareness, groaning at the sudden light. A whispered "nox" put it out, but he still flopped his arm over his eyes.

"Ronnie?" A quiet, warm voice asked.

Ron sat up, fast as possible, because the last time he'd heard his Mum's voice was when he'd seen her battling two or three death eaters, on her way to helping Ginny with Bellatrix Lestrange.

(Ron didn't want to think about their chances. After all, his mother was here, looking decades younger, and all Bellatrix was to Ginny was a whisper in the night and a face in the newspaper, detailing captured Death Eaters.)

A hand reached out and gently helped him into a sitting position. "You gave us quite the fright." His mum told him. "And Fred and George – they've been spoken to about it. They say they're sorry."

Ron remembers this; years ago, not long after his Uncle's funeral, Fred and George had played some prank or another, that ended with Ron falling out of a tree, and being saved by a combination of his mother, his father, and accidental magic.

She smiled warmly at him, radiating home and safety. When she pulled him into a hug, he didn't resist – because, well. Even if he seems to be dealing, he did die, and he's seen family and friends die, and now he's no longer dead, that's weighing down on him strongly.

(He was so much smaller than he remembered; it was a strange feeling.)

He didn't realise he'd been silently crying until his mum wiped his tears away. She looked at him, sadly. "That must have been scary for you, musn't it?" She asked.

The world bled to grey scale, and Ron looked around wildly.

He noticed a small menu below his mother's face, a list of options of what to say.

"Pause." He said, and the menu was replaced by the main menu screen.

"Help; Dialogue."

 _Dialogue choices. Throughout the game, you will be presented with conversation. Currently, dialogue is set as unrealistic; in that you can only talk to one person at a time, and have a list of premade choices. You can turn this off, and have it realistic, or on a roll; using your charisma level. Realistic will allow Charisma checks for Persuasion, Intimidate, Lie, Convince, Argue, Put Down, Demand, and more._

 _Do you want to change Dialogue Method?_

Ron nodded, "Yes", because that was far too weird.

He'd like to actually talk to people, you know?

 _Understood. Realistic, or Charisma Check?_

"Realistic" He demanded.

 _Realistic Dialogue chosen. Have fun!_

All menus closed, and his mother seemed to be waiting patiently for his response.

"A little." He said. "I mean, I almost – you know." His mother patted him on the head. "The key word there is 'almost', dear. You'll be fine now; just rest for me, would you Ronnie?"

Mentally, he grimaced at the childhood nick-name, but outwardly, he nodded, smiling slightly. "Sure, mum."

 _Ignored discomfort at 'Childhood Nick-name'_

 _'The Twins' are now 1% more likely to use this, but 2% less likely to call you 'Ickle Ronnie-kins'. Choose your poison, eh?_

Ron blinked in surprise. _Uh… alright?_

An alert blocked his view. In the background, he noticed his mum leave the room, and realised that it would be best to pause before dealing with anything – the greyscale world stopped time from passing, Ron believed.

 _So, you have a title, eh?_

 _Certain people will call you certain things; those are personal titles, or Relationship Names; Such as, on opposing ends of the spectrum, [Lavender Brown] would call you 'Won-Won', and [Draco Malfoy] would call you 'Weasel.', on occasions when not insulting you with other less-than-flattering names._

 _Depending on mood, Relationship Names may vary; Mrs. Weasley may call you 'Ronnie' when worried, but 'Ron Bilius Weasley!' when angry._

 _Normal Titles, are ones you gain throughout play, based on Achievements, Quests, Skills, Abilities, etc. They are gained through others knowing you have done these things. For example, [Harry Potter] is 'The-Boy-Who-Lived', for his survival of the Killing Curse at a young age._

 _You don't currently have titles other than 'The Player', for the fact you are playing the game, and 'Ronnie', from your family, and 'Ickle Ronnie-kins' from the Twins, Fred and George._

 _You cannot currently swap out titles. You cannot currently swap out trophies. You cannot currently swap out boasts. When you have an Inventory (Currently; your wardrobe, not secure and low-level; too low level for the previously mentioned things) of the correct level, you may change them._

Ron nodded, again, and closed down the Alert just in time for his brothers to enter.

George came first, and then…

Fred.

(Ron didn't look at the one who'd died; but then they were identical so looking at either hurt.)

The twins took his silence and avoidance as, well, silent treatment, and perched on available things to perch on.

"We're – ah – sorry, Ronnie-kins." George said. "Yeah. Sorry, Ron." Fred added.

 _Bloody hell, how am I supposed to pretend to be mad at them when this happened years ago, and one of them is dead in my past life?_

Ron shook his head. "Uh. Alright."

The two looked surprised, and they should do, because that probably wasn't what they were expecting.

Ron continued. "S'not the first time anyway."

 _Reminder – Success!_

 _Given twins; 'guilt of past actions' for: 5 hours.*_

*Lacking because of an under-developed sense of empathy. That is because of age.

The twelve year olds winced, simultaneously.

"Mum – uh." Fred started, haltingly. George continued for him. "She sat us down about that too." He told Ron. "Said – said we needed to make it up. Since we can't fix the – spiders, thing, or the – the broken arm," They glanced at each other. Fred continued. "We figured we could – show you some tricks. You know? Stuff – useful stuff for your first year. Simple spells, and all that." "Stuff that'd have been mighty useful to know when we were firstees." George chimed in.

The world turned to greyscale, and the Twins were highlighted in a white glow.

An alert popped up in front of him.

 _Due to prior events, the twins have offered you Firstees' Street Smarts; the first class of the game! In it, you'll learn some handy knowledge about the school, such as secret passages, which portraits are helpful and which aren't, you'll gain some neat spells such as 'point me', 'lumos' and 'nox', 'finite', 'finite incantatum' and, of course (it is the twins, after all) some prank spells and creative, but mostly useless spells. If you gain a high enough RS – relationship status – with them, (In this case 'Worthy Brother O' Theirs') they may, with a good Charisma roll, let you in on the secrets of the map._

 _What map, you ask? Well, you'll find out, won't you?_

 _This class is the first class, and so therefore isn't able to be declined._

 _Just say yes._

"Yes." Ron said with both finality, and wariness; how would the twins teach him anyway? He wasn't looking to be a test subject, no way.

"Great!" Fred and George said happily. "That'll get mum off our backs." Fred added. "You'll need a wand though…" George pointed out. Fred seemed to deliberate, for a moment, before nodding and turning to Ron. "Say, how about a test? Your first one, mind, and it's an easy one at that. Find Charlie's first wand, keep Charlie's wand, and then hide Charlie's wand where we won't find it. How does that sound, Brother o' mine?"

 _Quest gained!_

 _The Wand Thief._

 _The twins have tasked you with finding, and 'borrowing' Charlie's wand. Can you do it? Or will you fail?_

 _This quest has extra rewards. If you finish in the time limit, you will gain RS with 'Fred' and 'George' 'Weasley', and 10 EXP!_

 _Do you accept, or do you wish to do this without the extra pressure?_

Ron was relieved, honestly. See, he knew exactly where Charlie's old wand was kept – and, thankfully, knew where to hide it.

"I accept the extra challenge" Ron replied.

 _Quest Accepted. Quest Journal unlocked! Class Schedule unlocked! Job List unlocked!_

 _There are three ways you can access these. From your base, there will be a book that holds them; from your Portable Inventory [currently lvl 1; muggle pockets] or from the main menu. The main menu one is locked during Story Mode – after accessing the Hogwarts instance. There are three instances prior; The Burrow, Diagon Alley and Kings Cross Station. You may spend as much time as you wish in those areas; that is the tutorial. When you move to Hogwarts, that is the end of your tutorial._

Ron nodded. _The way it tells me this stuff seems random, but I'll take it._

The alert closed.

The world bled back to colour and the twins gained shared evil grins.

"You have 24 hours; starting now, little brother." Fred told him. "But rest first; after all, if mum catches you out of bed, you're done for."

Ron grimaced. Talk about dropping him in the deep end!

The twins left the room. 'Pause', Ron thought, and grinned to himself when the world bled to grey and time stopped around him. "Brilliant."

 _Least I don't have to look crazy whenever I call up a menu, eh?_ Ron thought to himself, chuckling. _Bloody useful, that_.

Ron blinked, as this was the first time he'd gotten a proper look at the in-game main menu. There were a few more options; including the options menu, character sheet, inventory, save, load, and, ominously enough, quit.

Grimacing, Ron ignored 'quit', and figured he didn't need to look in options, or load, but figured a save would be a good idea. "Save" He called out.

Game saved in slot one;

 _Ron Weasley; The Burrow. Tutorial. Lvl. 0._

Ron nodded, then closed that menu.

Dismissing the main menu, Ron got up and stretched, then looked around his room.

It looked pretty much the same as always; which was a little embarrassing that he'd never changed his childhood room, even when he was a teenager.

Shrugging, Ron riffled through his stuff to see if he could find anything useful.

 _Looting Mode; Activated._

 _When this is activated, containers containing valuables, or quest items, glow gold. Items of note that are not in containers glow silver. Dangerous items glow bronze, and quest items glow platinum. Good luck seeing the difference._

 _Simply Magic items glow purple, and Muggle items glow orange._

 _Good? Good._

The message dissipated when he'd just about finished reading it. Before he could become annoyed, he looked around and was surprised at the amount of gold and silver in his room.

 _Checking through the gold containers first, he found some things he knew he didn't own._

 _+14 knuts!_

 _+2 sickles!_

 _+3 knuts!_

 _+4 galleons!_

Incredibly surprised at the last one, he noticed the messages appearing in the top left of his vision.

 _Luck roll granted! Boost to loot gained!_

 _Luck roll granted! Boost to loot gained!_

 _Luck roll failed! Boost to loot declined!_

 _Luck roll granted! Major Boost to loot granted!_

Ron grinned. This is bloody brilliant! I'm certainly going to take advantage of this!

Ron felt almost giddy, before calming down. "Well." He mused to himself. "So long as it's not stealing."

(It's not like there'd be many containers he can just take from like this. But to start of a fair few gallons richer than before? Not bad, not bad at all.)

Ron went back to looting. He didn't gain much more aside from money, but that was more than he'd had before so Ron was happy enough.

Raiding his closet netted him 'equipment'. Ron opened his inventory.

 _Inventory._

 _In your inventory, is where you will find the items you are carrying, and what you have equipped. Currently, you have two slots – one for the pocket in your robe, the other the pocket in your trousers. Different items gain you inventory slots – from basic muggle pockets, all the way to Hermione's Experimental Bead Purse; which has an infinite amount of space._

 _Currently carrying ½ slots;_

 _Wizarding Currency; 6 galleons, 3 sickles, and 15 knuts._

 _None._

 _Currently equipped:_

 _Sleeping Robe – Wizards dress weirdly, don't they? +10 to HP per hour slept. +1 to carrying capacity._

 _Sleeping Trousers – Why do these have a pocket? Christ, I'll never get you people. +1 to carrying capacity._

 _Found in Room:_

 _Hand-me-down robe – bit short around the ankles, bit tight around the waist. Fraying at the seams. -1 to Att. (if above age = 14), -1 to Chr. +2 carrying capacity._

 _Ratty trainers – these have been dragged through the mud one too many times for a reparo to fix them easy. -4% to walking/running speed, removes sprint._

 _Normal trousers – the only good pair you own. No bonuses._

Ron grimaced, and put them on. He noticed the timer in the top right go down by a few minutes.

 _As in all Strategy games, actions and choices take turns. In this case 'turns' are 'time'. During battle, that is different; but we're not there quite yet, Mr. Weasley._

Ron sighed.

Finally ready, Ron went to exit his room.

 _Do you want to leave the Base and start the day?_

 _[you have; 1 quest; 1 class (unavailable). If you're caught; you will be sent back to base, and loose an hour. Ready?]_

Ron took a deep breath. "Ready."

 _Good._

The door opened, and his eyes were hit with a blinding, bright light.

* * *

Notes:

I had major inspiration, then ran out. This is what i wrote instead of what i said i'd write, because it wouldn't leave me alone. I may not continue, but I'll try my best. (ugh, why do I put so much work on my plate ffs Cesca-)


	2. Chapter 2

_**Io!**_  
 _ **Been a long while, hasn't it? Finally got some inspiration and enough time to write this shit.**_  
 _ **also: keeping track of Ron's stats is crazy silliness.**_

* * *

Previously…

Would you like to start the game?

"Yeah. Yes." Ron says, the Alert going at 'yes'.

Would you like to do the tutorial? That will be the first ten years of your life.

Ron grimaces.

You may shorten it; and have the year from after your Uncle Bilius' funeral to when you turn eleven. Is this preferable?

Ron was still grimacing at the reminder, but nodded his acceptance.

Short Tutorial; Easy Mode; Strategy/RPG; Custom Character.

Enter Player's Name:

Ron blinked, then spoke, hesitantly (He'd always thought 'Ronald' never suited him. At least he could change that now.)

"Ron Bilius Weasley?"

The alert changed.

Is 'Ron Bilius Weasley' Correct?

"Yes."

Then The game shall start, in five, four, three, two…

One.

Ron lurched forwards, pulled through the door by some unseen force, and felt himself falling, falling through the endless void.

He landed, there was a sickening crack! And all went black.

Now…

* * *

Ron heard the explosions from his brothers' room, his little sisters shrill voice (bloody hell, she'd been high pitched back then) calling out, the pots and pans clanking around in their endless cleaning cycle in the sink.

He opened his eyes, and the sounds left.

Weird.

Ron looked around the dark hallway, the shadows reaching out of the corners and the old, less than structurally sound building creaking and groaning with age.

He heard the sounds of the ghoul, and what the fuck, why is my house –

Before he could finish that thought, another alert blocked his vision.

Pause, he thought, and the world bled to greyscale. Ron read the message.

Tutorial 1: Stealth.

Because of your start as a [Modified] [Ronald Weasley], your first mission – and you have to accept it – is a stealth one. Lucky you.

Fortunately, this 'game' is set on Easy, and therefore realistic stealth is off.

Let's go bird' s-eye for a mo'.

The alert disappeared from view, and Ron felt the sickening sense of being shot up into the air sans broomstick, or the ability to be a bird animagus. Ron then looked down, and saw himself. Bloody hell! He balked, and before he could do much of anything else another alert blocked his vision.

Right. So, for now, the game is going to pilot your avatar, just to show you how stealth is done. Don't worry, this only happens on the first of each tutorial.

'Well, that's a relief.' Ron thought, glaring at the alert.

Sorry. Anyway, let's go.

And the alert disappeared. Ron was startled when a disembodied voice started speaking. It seemed female one second, male the next. Then an amalgamation a moment later.

" **THIS IS JUST to disguise** who I am." The voice spoke. **"Shall WE GET** on with it?"

Ron winced at the volume, and replied "Yeah – uh, yes."

"Sorry. **We'll try to be quieter NEXT TIME."** The view panned down, and Ron felt his stomach lurch unpleasantly. It was a weird thing, he decided, looking down at his body being piloted by someone else.

 **"Now, [Ron Weasley], do you see the map?"**

Ron nodded; because he did, sort of, get what they meant.

The route he was supposed to take was indeed the one he was going to take anyway – it's not like there are multiple ways around his house; the twins would have found them by now. He looks at the route; down the stairs, across the corridor. That bit didn't seem so hard, Ron thought, and then he saw his mum, guarding the doorway like some posted auror. He frowned.

"There are obstacles." The voice told him. " **Your mother is the first guard in the game. During bedtime hours, she will be guarding the door to the living room; and therefore the kitchen and the front door; or the exit, as I PREFER."** Ron winced at the volume again, before nodding. Alright. Not too difficult.

"You see that red circle, yellow cone, and the green area on the ground?" The voice asked.

Ron nodded. Around his mother, about a meter in diameter was a red circle. From his mother's eyes came down a yellow cone; he could maybe fit under the first part if it weren't for the red circle. There was a red circle as the base of the cone, and a small area around where it was turned yellow. The rest of the floor was green, aside from some patches of yellow and a red one where he knows for certain there was a creaky floorboard.

"The red is her contact area. She will instantly detect within the red. Yellow is her, what we like to call, 'huh?' zone, which will put her into alert but not signify her of your position. Green is free roaming area; where she will not detect you. Avoid red, yellow. Be in green. Not to hard **TO GRASP NOW IS IT?"**

Ron grimaced, and nodded, now used to their strange voice patterns.

He felt like his first time apparating as he was slammed back into his body, and immediately dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes.

An alert blocked his view.

 _Ooops. Sorry._

Ron scowled and waved it off. The parchment dissipated, and he looked around.

 _Mission starts in three, two, one…_

Ron blinked, and the floor was green. It looked as it had from above, but with the new perspective he had to assess his surroundings again.

The floor in front was entirely green, and experimentally, he stepped forwards.

Nothing happened.

He looked down the corridor and saw his mum, who was looking straight in his direction.

Panicking and not really thinking, Ron dropped into a crouch and hid behind the corridor's first side table, pressing his back into the wood.

Bloody hell. He thought. Then remembered, if this were realistic, I'd've been a goner for sure.

Since it isn't though…

Ron peaked his head around the side of the cabinet table thing (whatever they're called, it's a bloody useful thing) and stared down the hallway to his mum.

Sneak mode activated.

Ron blinked at the text alert in the top, left hand corner of his vision

Oh. Ron thought, belatedly. That actually makes some kind of sense.

With a sudden realisation, Ron paused the game and brought up his character sheet.

Character [Ron Weasley] Stats and Status Effects.

Status Effects: Unable to sprint; shoes.

Character Mode: Sneaking

Stats:

Str: 5

Int: 5

Chr: 5

End: 6

Vit: 6

Wiz: 6

Lck: 8

HP: 250

MP: 250

Because of [Easy] difficulty, Dex, Per (DEXterity, PERcePtion) are locked until instance [Hogwarts] to make your grinding easier.

Strength is the parent of Vit, and Dex. Wiz/Int/Lck, are the parents of Per.

For now, the locked stat rolls will be governed by their parent Stat.

Once they are unlocked, the stats will reflect that of the parent stat, and the specific skills you have developed, ex. Levelling stealth will help with dex/lck., whereas block will help Str, and doing, e.g., Cardio exercises will help Vit. And vice versa; higher stats better skills, higher skills gains better stats.

Basically – grind the shit out of your stats and skills; get result.

Simples?

Ron looked questioningly at the new text.

An alert blocked his view.

Sorry. Forgot to tell you earlier.

With a sigh and a roll of his eyes (which he may or may not have picked the habit of doing up off of Harry, or Hermione one of the two) he waved aside the alert and tried figuring out how well he could sneak with his current stats.

Abysmally, he decided. His strength, which parented Dexterity, was crap. Five seemed rather low – Ron wasn't sure, but he figured anything less than ten wasn't a good amount for his stats to be at. However, luck seemed alright – nothing special, but certainly closer to ten than the others were. He figured it was most likely better than Harry's had been – though, considering, that's not saying much.

He must have had negative luck for the shit that happened to him near constantly, Ron figured. Which sucked; he could sympathise. Ron remembered how much trouble he'd managed to get himself into despite his lack of a negative luck stat.

Sympathy Level up!

Sympathy, lvl 4/20.

Can be dangerous if too high. Also dangerous if too low. Currently too low.

-85% chance at success on rolls trying to; sympathise, comfort, empathise, and pity.

+30% chance to be a dick to people in emotional pain. Accidentally, of course.

Ron scowled. Bugger that.

He wondered how he could level it. Ron figured he could work on it when he wasn't in 'stealth' though – so he pushed it aside so it could wait.

Ron took a deep breath in preparation, and crouch-walked out of his hiding place.

Immediately, he stubbed his toe.

Then, of course, he tripped over nothing.

Slipped on wet flooring.

Stood on three consecutive creaky floorboards.

Faceplanted into the wall.

For that, he lost five hit points.

Ow. Bloody hell. Ron thought.

Still. It could be worse, he considered. If this is what it's like with eight luck, think about how it could be with less.

Gained; +1 Wiz for thinking things through, logically.

Trait revealed; Optimism.

+2 luck when thinking optimistically.

-2 luck when thinking pessimistically,

And -1 luck when thinking realistically.

This trait can be bought back for [2] points.

Ron frowned. I'm not the most optimistic. Bloody hell, this trait is useless.

Ron opened his character sheet, and went to the traits section.

You are: lvl. 0. 100 exp. Needed for lvl. 1.

Due to [Easy] difficulty, you gained [five] spendable points. Buying 'bad' traits gives points, 'selling' them loses points, but 'selling' good/neutral gives points.

Owned Traits;

Prewitt Puer [Caused by; Appearance.]

Light Is Good, Dark is Bad* [Can't buy back; requirements not met]

Dumbledore's Wo/Man [Group trait; many others have this, including [Harry Potter] and [The Weasley Family]] [Can't buy back; requirements not met.]

Stubborn [buy back – 6 points.]

Natural Flyer [bought trait. Skill aquired; Broom Flying. Animagus Transformation unlocked; birds. Broom Flying starts at

lvl. 5/10; shared trait - discovered 'Harry Potter', 'Viktor Krum', and 'Ginevera Weasley' own this.]

Goody Gryffindors* [buy back – 5 points]

Hufflepuff? Schmufflepuff.* [buy back – 3 points]

Quick Learner [bought trait. Skills are aquired: 5% faster, increases by 1% per character Lvl.]

Loyal – To A Fault [Locked trait. Caused by; avatar – Ron Weasley.]

Self-esteem? Yeah, you have Issues.* [Locked trait, caused by; Family Situation]

Jealously Juvenile* [Linked trait. Caused by: Self-Esteem? Yeah, You have Issues]

No Tones Of Grey* [Linked trait. Caused by 'Light is Good, Dark is Bad.']

Chess Master [Locked Trait. Caused by; Avatar – Ron Weasley.]

Strategic Mindset [Locked Trait. Caused by; Chess Master.]

Emotional Range Of A Teaspoon* [Linked Trait. Caused by; Strategic Mindset, Chess Master. Negated by Emotional understanding]

Casanova? Ha!* [Linked Trait. Caused by; Emotional Range Of A teaspoon Negated by Emotional Understanding]

Bloody Hell!* [Locked Trait. Caused by; Avatar – Ron Weasley.]

Arachnophobia [Locked trait; caused by – Fred & George Weasley. Can overcome, just like any phobia]

Emotional Understanding. [bought trait. Negates; Emotional Range of a Teaspoon. +1 to stat; Chr. +1 to skill; Sympathy.]

Optimism. [Revealed trait. +2 to stat; Lck when thinking optimistically. -2 to stat; Lck when thinking pessimistically; -1 to stat; Lck when thinking realistically. buy back for [2] points]

Ron shrugged, and bought Optimism back.

Ron realised, seeing the two new points, that if he could unlock other traits in the same way he did Optimism, he might actually be able to earn some trait points.

+1 to Int for seeing a loophole, but no effect on Wiz because of no PoA (Plan of Action)

Right. Ron thought. Plan of Action.

Strategy skill check passed!

Wiz roll succeeded!

Int roll failed!

Poor plan of action created!

Ron blinked. What the-

Plan of action executed!

Seriously, what the fuck is going on? Ron wondered, as many a text alert popped into view in the corner of his vision.

Ron sighed. This is not going to go well for me.

Pessimism revealed!

"For fucks sake." Ron grumbled quietly to himself.

He then bought back the 'balanced trait' for one trait point. It was just as useless as optimism, stat gain/loss wise.

Now he had three trait points. Now what? Ron thought, before sighing and glancing down the corridor.

Back to smacking into walls, I guess. Ron thought, slightly gloomy.

Might take me a while, and I'm certain I'll be caught, Ron thought, but it should improve stealth so it is worth it, sort of.

Realism revealed!

Ron scowled, and bought it back for another two points. Now he was at five.

Mentally, he sighed. At least I've got five extra points for level one traits now, eh?

* * *

Ron glared at the stairs.

He had managed to sneak down the hallway, despite slipping and tripping and smacking his face into objects, but the stairs were a veritable landmine of notice spots.

The stairs were only partly green, but mostly yellow and a fair amount of red.

Ron groaned mentally to himself. Fuck this. He thought.

Ron snuck forward two steps, and saw a text message in the corner of his eye.

Stealth skill levelled!

Sneak mode upgraded! Less chance to do stupid shit.

'Who was that again?' now active since stealth skill is at lvl 1/25

Ron paused. He'd forgotten what that trait meant.

Who Was That Again?*

Ability. Description:

Either your looks, or your family background decrees that it would take more than a glance to remember your face. Or recognise it.

Gives; +2 to stealth in restricted areas. -5% chance to be caught doing things that are… untoward. Each level adds +2 and -5%. At level 5 and 10, a new buff is added.

This Ability can be levelled. You are currently at lvl 1 of 10.

Ah. That was helpful.

Another text alert was there.

You have a negative buff of -2 to stealth due to [build].

Ron grimaced. That was unhelpful, but at least it only negated the buff of +2 stealth, rather than put it in the negatives.

But now Ron realised he could level his stealth skills simply by slowly crouch walking around this hallway, until it was at least good enough so that he wasn't tripping up every few steps.

And so, Ron did.

* * *

Bloody hell.

Ron wiped imaginary sweat from his forehead, tired yet not after an unknown amount of time of 'grinding' his stealth skill.

It was at level four, or so the text alerts told him, and Ron was successfully wandering around the hallway without tripping up.

There was still the occasional creaky floorboard, but that was it.

Ron turned around, and determined, stealthed over to the stairs, and began his descent.

Miraculously, it worked.

Ding ding! Stealth skill levelled to 5 because of continuous practice and navigation of a precarious staircase!

Buff acquired!

Due to practice in an old-ish, creaky and populated building, stealth in other such areas is a little easier – a buff of +1!

Ron shrugged. He'd take it.

Once Ron had gotten to the landing, he assessed the area.

Floor was more yellow than green, annoyingly, and there was a fair amount of red.

However, Ron could see a clear path through the green. He figured since yellow put the person in alert, it would give him some time to get out and find a green hiding spot, or something.

No stat gain, but then I figured easy things like that are more common sense than wisdom.

Ron sighed, since apparently his mum was deaf or something – considering the fact she hadn't heard him crashing about earlier - then got on with the sneaking.

Ron progressed slowly through the green, being careful to avoid the area's his mother's sight cone would hit, as he made his way through the room.

He came to a halt at a stretch of yellow and red, with no green. However, just beyond it, was a patch of green.

Wait. Ron thought. No way.

And, fingers crossed, Ron jumped.

And landed in the green. His mum was none the wiser.

That's fucking broken. Ron thought gleefully.

There are objects and shit I can stand on that have no green, yellow or red, and I can jump between green sections. This is seriously bad game design.

And so he proceeded to do so, staying in sneak mode as he stealth-jumped his way to the door.

It took much less time to get there than the mission would have allowed otherwise.

Ron saw a message in the top corner, but dismissed it for now. He had a mother to bypass.

Ron frowned. How am I supposed to do that?

Looting mode Activated.

He looked around, and spotted a glowing box.

Ron frowned, and tried to remember the rules for glowing things.

When looting mode is activated, containers containing valuables, or quest items, glow gold. Items of note that are not in containers glow silver. Dangerous items glow bronze, and quest items glow platinum. Good luck seeing the difference.

Simply Magic items glow purple, and Muggle items glow orange.

Ron shrugged, and stealthed over to the container, and had a look inside.

It was mostly orange glowing muggle junk; Ron figured this was a box of his dad's stuff. Despite this, and a slight feeling of guilt, Ron grabbed one of the random assorted objects, and turned around.

Taking a breath, Ron threw the thing, and it landed a fair bit away.

Not as far as he'd wanted, and not exactly where he'd wanted, but Ron supposed it would do.

Strength roll succeeded!

Int/Wiz/Lck roll barely succeeded!

Ron grumbled. His Int score was really pulling him down.

Ron climbed on top of the box, and crouched there. When his mum turned around, he held his breath – but as suspected, though the cone passed over him, it didn't register as her spotting him, and so his mum wandered over to the object.

Quick as he could, Ron hurried over to the door and slipped in, then closed it behind him.

Game auto-saved.

Ron remembered he could save it manually, and berated himself for forgetting. He should do that before most decisions, he thinks – because what if something goes wrong?

PoA activated!

Game auto-save function will now happen before every important (or less so ) decision or action.

Huh. Ron thought. Handy.

In the room, Ron stood up, and saw the message

Sneak mode deactivated.

Having read this, Ron looked around.

There was many random purple and orange objects lying around, and a few random containers; gold and one platinum. There were also a few silver things.

The platinum one, of course, was the one where Mrs. Weasley kept the wands – out of reach of the children, and safe in their box, since the kids can't do magic.

Or so she thought. Ron grinned, and checked how to activate his controllable magic.

Welcome to the Guide!

Here we have a few tips. You have requested a tutorial on how to control your accidental magic.

It's simple, really. Much easier than that wand stuff you wizards are so proud of. Though only a few can do this; you're a luck bastard!

All you need to do, is force your will onto something.

For example – want a lock, unlocked? There's a few ways around this.

Believe with all your heart the box or door or what have you is in no way locked against your access, and bada-bing bada-boom, it won't be!

Another is to force it open with brute magical strength; either enhance those muscles and smash it, or drain some mana into it to break the spell, or force the muggle lock open!

Finally, you can always use a finer touch, and use your magic to condense a small amount of air into a thin lock pick like object, and open it that way!

Each of these has its own level of difficulty, unlocks certain branches of controllable accidental magic, and will help you on your way to wandless and wordless casting!

For now, though, you'll have to point at objects and mutter things. Sorry, but you're still just a kid, man. You ain't OP yet.

But that's all for this tutorial! Figure all the rest of this shit out yourself, you've got a head on your shoulders, don't you?

Ron sighed. Helpful as ever, he thought, drily.

Ron looked over his options.

It looks as if mum locked it with magic – since we don't have our wands, and therefore can't unlock the magical lock as we could a muggle one.

Ron sighed. This limited his options.

So. There's the belief one, which… I'm not so sure on, then there's the brute magic one – but since my mum is currently way more powerful than me that's probably bust… the lock pick one sounds cool but useless without that skill and a lack of practice controlling elements… which should not be possible unless you're, what, as powerful as Dumbledore? So – yeah, that's out of the question for now.

Which leaves belief. Bugger.

Ron huffed, and feeling slightly ridiculous, placed his hand on the container.

Game auto-saved.

Oh. Right. Yeah, Ron figured this would count for that failsafe.

But he was distracted. Ron breathed, closed his eyes and concentrated.

Muttering aloud "There's no lock on this. It's openable. I'm not unable to open this container. I can take things out without any problems," And so on.

After a while – maybe it was minutes, maybe hours – Ron finally saw a new message, aside from Spellcasting skill check failed! Controllable Magic Ability not activated!

Now, of course, he saw

Spellcasting skill levelled to 5/30! Controllable magic now always activated, and generally successful!

Though not always **accurate** to what you asked for.

Ron grinned. This was much better.

Again, he closed his eyes. And with all of his focus, all of his belief, he thought

This. Is. Open.

And it was. Ron stared as the lid opened of its own accord, and the wands inside stared up at him, glowing.

Some were simply purple, though some were silver and one –

One was platinum.

This wand had scratches and dents and groves, and the tip was broken off so much so that you could see the unicorn hair poking through the top.

Ron picked it up.

Charlie's old wand added.

Error. Inventory full. You must carry this in hand, put it down, or find more portable inventory space.

Ron sighed. That was going to get annoying.

Quest updated!

The Wand Thief.

Congrats! You sneaky bastard. Now you've got the wand, where to put it?

You have twelve hours left.

Ron blinked, then opened the main menu.

And there it was, clear as day – the analogue clock stating he had twelve hours of the twenty-four left, in which to hide the wand where the twins won't find it.

Well. Ron thought. That's odd.

But then, it really wasn't, he realised. The game had told him earlier that all actions take a turn – or in his case, minutes. So it makes sense, even if it doesn't look like time has passed, his 'turns' have.

Alright. He thought. Now to hide this thing.

Ron frowned. He looked at the front door, slowly walked over, and opened it.

Do you want to move onto the next area, and progress in the quest?

Ron paused, and thought.

Then promptly realised something.

Ah. Right.

He hadn't looked around for the loot in this room.

And so he did, gaining another six galleons and five sickles worth of money, and a better pair of shoes that let him sprint.

Which was good, because Ron remembered that being highly necessary in his previous life.

With that out of the way, Ron went back to the door, and said "Yes".

He opened it, and his vision went white.

* * *

The outside world was a little chilly, the sun still rising on the horizon.

Dawn, then. Ron thought. Hope mum isn't out yet.

Luckily, she wasn't. Neither were the twins, which was a blessing. Everyone must still be sleeping, Ron figured.

He hurried on over to the broom shed. Quickly, he did the same as he had done earlier to open the wand cabinet to the door, and it swung wide, nearly whacking him in the nose.

Luckily, he passed the luck roll, and found himself to be standing just far enough out of it's reach.

Only just, mind you.

Blinking rapidly, Ron went inside the small shed, and grabbed one of the brooms. Then he went outside the back of it, and placed the broom on the ground.

"Up." He commanded, quietly, fully expecting it to either whack him in the face as brooms had always tended to do, or roll over uselessly.

It did neither.

Just as Harry's had, that first flying lesson, the broom shot up into his hand before he'd even finished the word.

Ron grinned at this. Natural flyer was a brilliant choice, go figure.

Ron mounted the broom and flew, and it was far easier and far more enjoyable than it had been in his previous life; he didn't even feel slightly uncomfortable.

Like Natural Flyer suggests, it felt natural.

Ron did a few loops, just for fun, felt the wind rush past and it was so, so easy.

Things except chess had never really been easy, for him. It was almost exciting, but Ron remembered he had work to do.

Ron flew the broom up to the roof, and dropped off of it, landing easily on his feet, holding onto the broomstick with one hand.

Kneeling down, Ron placed the wand in the gap between the fairly useless chimney (Really, we're magic, what need do we have of one of those things?) and the lip of the roof. Since that part was slightly sunken, hidden and had walls around it, Ron thought it to be a fairly good place to put the wand.

If you're wondering, Ron had gotten himself stuck up here once when he was younger, in this life – due to accidentally apparating up to the roof due to one of the terrifying spider incidents that had happened.

The twins stopped thinking his phobia was funny, after that, Ron remembered. They never really had in his last life.

Ron shook this off, because then wasn't really the time for that, and flew back down. He was surprised, but not really, to see Ginny at the shed.

He landed and dropped off, into a crouch, which activated sneak mode. Since he landed in a green area, she didn't detect him.

Stupid system. Ron grinned mentally. Ripe for abuse, this is.

Ron stood up, and wandered over.

Ginny turned around, startled.

"Ron!" She blurted, then covered her mouth.

"What're you doing here?" Ginny hissed, a little angry.

Okay, quite angry, Ron amended. But that was Ginny for you.

Ron chucked her the broom, and she caught it, a little clumsy but not coming close to dropping it.

"Same as you." He said instead, and she frowned at him suspiciously. Ron placed his hands in his pockets and tried to look like he hadn't just hidden the wand he'd borrowed on the roof.

Ginny relaxed.

Lying skill gained! Level 1/10.

Ron frowned, but ignored the message. He'd look at that later.

Her eyes glinted. "You up for a challenge, Ronnie?" Ginny inquired.

It was Ron's turn to tense.

"What kind?" He asked, a bit wary.

"See if you can block more goals than I can score." She said.

"Chaser on keeper."

Ron looked on, nonplussed. "And what do I get?"

"If you win," She grinned. "I can teach you a few things, like the bat bogey hex Bill gave me, and a few quidditch moves."

There was a pause, and Ron realised the game wanted him to respond.

"And if you win, Ginny?"

Her grin grew a little bit more vicious.

"I tell mum that you ruined my new dress, and it wasn't me on accident."

Ron winced, mentally. One of the fake memories flew to mind – of him accidentally ruining his sister's birthday present dress. Ginny had actually been happy, not wanting to have anything to do with the frilly mess, but she'd said it was fine, she could just hold it as blackmail.

Outwardly, Ron acquiesced to her challenge.

"Alright." Ron said. "deal."

Ginny smiled. "Glad to do business, Ron. Come on!" The ten-year-old jogged over to the fields, and called back "I'll be in the quidditch clearing."

Quest Gained! Quest gain is currently in realistic mode, due to Realistic Dialogue. Sort of realistic, anyway.

Quest Gained: A Little Blackmail Never Killed Nobody.

Your sister has blackmailed you into playing a little game of chaser on keeper; you being the keeper. Stop more goals than she can score, and you'll win another class! This one is one-time use and will happen directly after the match, in cutscene.

Ron sighed, and grabbed the broomstick that was in best shape out of the lot, before running after his younger sister.

* * *

Ron entered their makeshift quidditch pitch, which had muggle repellent wards and a fair few other bits and bobs to make sure the muggles don't pay attention to the children flying on dead bits of tree.

"You ready?" Ginny called out from her perch on George's Cleansweep seven (it was the one in the best condition; since Fred and George are on the Gryffindor quidditch team. Fred's was second best).

"Give me a second." Ron grumbled, before mounting and flying up to the makeshift – and very certainly only stable because of magic – goalposts.

"Ready." Ron said.

Ginny grinned. "One prodigy against another, yeah?"

The game started.

Ginny flew left, and yet Ron knew she was fainting, so pretended to follow yet switched when she did and caught the Quaffle easily – though his arm strained slightly and Ron cursed his low Str. Stat.

Quaffle caught successfully! Timer moves forward two minutes. Score, 1-0 to Ron.

Ron tossed the ball back to his sister.

"Thanks!" She called, then pirouetted the broom as a distraction before sharply flying to the left and throwing it to the bottom of the lower left goal.

Ron was a little too slow on the uptake, and caught it just as it passed through.

Quaffle catch fail! Timer moves forward two minutes. 1 all.

Ron understood the showing off she was doing, and in turn used the end of his broom to hit the ball in her direction – he'd remembered seeing a few keepers do this once, including Wood, and had wanted to try it, but was never good enough at flying to accomplish the move.

He was now, though – and his sister had to fly after it just a little to catch it.

Ginny circled the broom back around.

"Nice one." She said, tossing the ball between her hands.

Theatrics skill unlocked! Theatrics at lvl 1/15.

Theatrics is your dramatic-ness. How showy you are, and can be. Parents intimidation, and other showy things – like acting, and has a little influence in the bullshitting side of lying.

Ron paused mentally. That actually sounded kind of useful.

Ginny suddenly dived her broom, then flew at a diagonal. This throw Ron easily just kicked away from the goal.

Ginny caught it on the rebound, and flew to hover directly in front of him.

"Yeah, that was pretty bad." She sighed.

Quaffle successfully caught! Or, well – kicked, more like. Score 2-1 to Ron.

Timer goes down two minutes. Four left.

Ten-minute match, then. Ron deduced.

Ginny tried for another feint, but Ron again predicted and caught it before it went in the centre goal.

Quaffle Catch Succeeded! Timer goes down, two minutes left. 3-1, Ron.

Ron tossed it between his hands before throwing it back to Ginny, who caught it and immediately threw it to one of the goals.

It missed.

Quaffle unneeded to be caught. No score change, timer goes down one minute.

Ron realised the two-minute thing was both their turns. One minute for each turn. That didn't really make much sense, since each 'turn' took way less than a minute, but it's the game, he guesses.

Ron dropped down, scooped the ball up and flew back to the goal, through the large middle one.

He tossed the ball back to Ginny, one-handed, and waited for her response.

Timer goes down one minute. Game ends.

Oh. Ron thought, belatedly. Right.

Ginny sighs.

"Times up," She said, and Ron figured she only knew because the game said she did.

"Let's teach you that spell, eh?"

* * *

New spell gained!

Bat Bogey Hex – turns the, you guessed it – snot of your enemies into bats. Surprisingly effective.

Requires a wand.

New Skill gained!

Lock-picking, lvl 3/15 – taught by novice.

The ability to… discretely open locks, sans magic and sans keys.

And sans legality, but who cares? Not you, obviously.

Blackmailing skill unlocked! No level yet, but at least you know it's a thing now, eh?

Bullshitting branch of Lying Skill unlocked! This is the ability to say complete and utter rubbish and have others believe you. The more ridiculous you are capable of, the quicker you level, and thus the easier it is!

Ron shrugged. This was all pretty fine – the hex was really what mattered out of all of that. He remembered how useful it had been to Ginny… and how no-one else had ever used it. Which was odd, now that he thinks about it – but it's not like he can change his past.

Though this is technically the past. And he can change this future. Though not too much. Ron knows messing with time is dangerous business.

(That sort of understanding comes with brains latching onto you and not letting go. They had a lot of information, and he doesn't remember any of it. Just… feelings. Incredibly specific understandings.)

With a sigh, Ron ambled back in the direction of the Burrow.

* * *

Before going inside, Ron decided to have a look around.

The Burrow's surrounding area was pretty much the same as he remembered – but there were some less-than-minor changes, such as a fucking massive wooded area.

Seriously. Ron stared at the forest.

Bloody hell, when did that get there? He demanded, having nearly jumped out of his skin when he had noticed it.

Curious, and ignoring the Hermione-conscience nagging him for acting like Harry and the not-Hermione what was egging him on, he cautiously made his way over to the treeline.

Ron hesitantly stepped into the woods.

Game Auto-Saved.

Welcome to the first Wild Area of your gaming experience! In this small (relatively) section of the woods which you have access to, you will find Creatures and Critters which are scaled to your level! As you are currently Lvl. [0] and therefore pretty useless, they'll be super easy to defeat.

Stays pretty much the same until Level five, wherein you'll get some new enemy types and random boss encounters.

Human enemies are unlocked in the Wilds after [Year 5] in story instance [Hogwarts] is completed.

Ron blinked, then decided pretty much instantaneously he wasn't ready for battling anything yet – considering he has no weapon, or anything remotely helpful.

An alert materialised in front of his face.

Ron grimaced, then read it.

Hey, Player!

Sorry about this. But you do have weapons – they're called your fists and your controllable accidental magic, both of which really need some training. Here's the best place for that, since because of your start you don't have any real battle skills trainers just yet.

So, I recommend fighting some shit.

Oh, and remember to save! You can die. Forgot to tell you that, hahah… oops.

Ron scowled at the alert. This arsehole was beginning to annoy him rather more than was necessary.

With a sigh, he waved it away, and opened the main menu.

He 'hit' save, then the world bled back to full colour.

Ron figures he'll end up used to that, at some point in the future.

Grumbling, Ron activated looting mode and picked up a sharp rock, with which he marked a tree, so as to find his way back out of the woods when he needs to.

Ron kept the looting mode on, as there wasn't really anything in sight and he figured it would be useful, and wandered further into the woods.

* * *

Ron had not had to 'fight' anything yet, per say. Unless you count stomping on slightly over-sized roaches and other things (thank Merlin no spiders) as 'battling' creatures.

Ron had stood on many a critter and, since he only got a few exp per 'defeat' (as the game called it) he wasn't really close to levelling.

He had gotten a 'stomping' skill. That was something at least.

Stomping levelled to 2/5!

Ron scowled down at the bigger than usual cockroach he'd just stomped on.

This was getting dull.

Another alert blocked his view.

Well, yeah, it's getting dull dumbass. This is what we call 'grinding' – where you wander around, doing the same shit over and over and over again to gain exp, and levels in skills and such things.

It's boring. It's dull. It's repetitive. Get over yourself, we've all had to do the same.

'Close.' Ron demanded mentally, and the floating parchment dissolved into the air.

And with that, Ron got back to stomping on unsuspecting oversized critters.

* * *

Stomping levelled to 3/5!

Now when you stomp on people's faces, it's a guaranteed broken nose!

Ron shrugged. It's something for my efforts, at least.

Having seen another roach – are these the only thing this game is capable of, Morgana's sake – Ron walked over and stood on it.

Luck roll major success!

Exp gained:10 from Large 'Roach.

Level Up!

Ron blinked at the character sheet that was blocking his view. Grimacing, he commanded it aside and opened the main menu, then brought up his character sheet.

Ron immediately used up the bonus fifty any-stat points and the 100 exp he'd been granted to make his Str. Stat a six, as it was the only five left in his Stats list.

Well. Table, more like.

 **Stats** Lvl 1

 **Str :** 6

 **Int :** 6

 **Wiz :** 7

 **Chr :** 6

 **End :** 6

 **Vit :** 6

 **Lck :** 8

 **HP :** 250

 **MP :** 250

Ron nodded. Not bad.

Having finally levelled, Ron decided to leave the Wild zone and go back to the Burrow and hand in his quest, the twenty-four hour timer now down to two, as it was.

With a final look around himself, Ron turned and followed the marked trees back to the exit.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: After the next one is finished and posted to both here and Ao3, you guys' 'll all be caught up. Sorry it's taken as long as it has.

* * *

Ron exited the 'Wild area', and wandered back on over to the burrow.

As he arrived at the main area of their farm (the bit that holds their house and garage) an alert blocked his view:

Sup player?

So, you've two hours left, until Messers Weasley decide to actually come find you, and therefore I think it'd probably be best for you to explore some more.

Hint. Hint.

(Eg, have a look around the farm, the garden, the garage, the surrounding area... maybe you'll find some secrets!)

(Hint. Fucking Hints man. Look at all this help I'm giving you; you should be honoured.)

Ron scoffed. Bloody hell. What does this guy even think he is? Merlin?

With a simple thought, the alert dissolved from view - and despite his distate for the Game... overlord? Eh. Sounds villain-like. Hmm.

Name it later. Ron decided.

Well, as I was saying, despite his distaste for the game-guy, Ron decided to take his advice.

For not being a stubborn idiot, you now have only a 70% chance not to listen to reason, rather than a 75% chance. Go you, ya stubborn arsehole.

Wait. What? Ron demanded, and a description of his trait; Stubborn, came up:

Stubborn. You can buy this trait back, it costs six points. It is a balanced trait, as a result of easy difficulty, and so therefore you will not loose points - you will, in fact, gain them. Lucky you.

Aren't you stuck in your ways? 70% chance to not listen to a word people say, and never take anything negative said about you into account. However, the flip-side is that you won't ever stray from friends unless you choose too, no matter how badly they're depicted in media.

It's not like Ron was about to do that anyway; he has the Loyal - To A Fault trait for a reason.

Ron bought it back, and nodded decisively at his eleven trait points. That's probably a good thing - having a bunch of extra ones in case a really good yet expensive trait becomes available.

Int + 1!

Ron smiled slightly. That was a good bonus.

Now he had seven Int, Ron figured he wouldn't fail so much at those int rolls he does more often than he'd originally thought he would. Should've thought of that, really.

Shrugging, Ron moved on.

Since it was closest, Ron decided he'd have a look around his dad's garage - wherein he uses the loophole in his own law to mess around with muggle objects.

Bit dangerous, that. Ron would never forget the ford anglia. That car helped them when they were younger - well. When, in his past life, they'd been twelve.

Never saw it after that; but I can't really blame it. They did, after all, crash the bloody thing. Ron rather thinks them lucky it didn't leave them for dead, because of that.

Won't do that again, this time. Ron decided. It had been his idea, after all - and judging by his low int and wiz stats from earlier...

He's surprised that he can even talk, let alone play chess and come up with getting-to-school strategies.

Ron sighed, and entered the garage; having pondered on all of this on the way there.

His vision bled white - which he was slowly getting used to - and the room (because that's all it is, truly)... glitched into view, before the colours dissolved into existence.

Shivering slightly, because it's always disturbing when it's plain and easy to see that his new 'life' is actually just some... virtual thing, Ron had a gander at the knick-nacks on show.

Mostly muggle things, and with the looting mode still activated he could see things that were flickering between orange and purple... which probably wasn't a good sign.

Ron stayed away from those, mainly.

But, as he'd been thinking on it earlier - the car caught his eye.

It wasn't bronze, which he figured was a good sign, but it wasn't - uh, sliver or platinum either, though he figured that was mainly because this was way before the ford had become anything more than his dad's weird and mostly useless project.

Ron couldn't quite help himself, and wandered over to it.

"Ron?" A voice called out, and he winced before spinning around. His dad was there - and as this was the first time Ron had seen the man (not counting the false memories) since the battle of Hogwarts...

Bloody hell Ron. Get it together.

Arthur must have taken his son's silence and reluctance to meet his eyes as worry at being caught, as the man chuckled heartily. "It's alright, Ron, nothing to fear. Might I ask my son what he's doing in his old man's workshop?" Ron's dad inquired pleasantly - and unlike mum, he's not trying to make me spill or anything like that.

Ron shrugged. "Just - curious, I suppose." He muttered, and scuffed his shoe on the ground in an awkward manner.

True enough, I reckon. Ron figured, and his Dad nodded along as if he agreed with that assessment.

"Well, feel free to have a look around then." He seemed exited - and Ron remembered that none of them had, in his last life, done anything more than humour his dad's interest in the muggle side of things. "Ask me any questions - and don't worry, fiddle away with whatever catches your eye." The man winked. "I won't tell Molly if you don't."

Ron's dad ambled off to work on some other kooky muggle-magical fusion thing, and Ron gave a minute shake of his head.

Once his Dad was out of sight, Ron turned back to the car.

It was in such a better shape than the last time he'd seen it, that the bloody thing brought about a wealth of happier memories.

No matter how stupid it was, that drive was actually pretty fun.

After a short while, and when they'd realised the drive to fucking Scotland would take hours, him and Harry had had to figure out how to have some fun - whilst Ron kept driving, since Harry had made a point to poke the fragile lens of his glasses as proof as to why he would most definitely not be driving, thanks Ron.

It was a pretty stupid thing, though. Ron thought - both in mirth and a kind of bittersweet feeling - the one you get when you look back into your memories, when you delve deep into simpler times.

Ron stared down at the car and patted it on the headlamp.

As he'd expected, the bloody thing flashed the said lamps in response.

Fucking knew you were alive the whole time. Ron thought, grouchily. Could'a helped, you know.

"I mean it." He murmured aloud. "Harry nearly died since you let him fall out."

The car made an unhappy rumbling noise - though thankfully quiet. However, Ron was fairly certain the thing couldn't understand a word he was saying... yet it did near worry him that it could respond to tone correctly.

Ron looked at it suspiciously, and if he didn't know any better the thing was most definitely blinking in an 'who, me?' innocent manner.

Ron gave it a rather childish 'I'm watching you' gesture, before backing away.

It beeped goodbye, and he flipped the thing off.

It is not chuckling; it is a fucking car.

Ron viciously grabbed the nearest random object and started fiddling with it, as he walked away from the car.

It made a sad noise, and Ron forcefully reminded himself that it was an inanimate object, do not feel anything about leaving it alone. Since it's a car, it can't be 'alone.'

An alert blocked his view. Ron scowled at it. Bastard.

He gave that the middle finger before demanding it to go away, and then decided to actually pay attention to the object he'd picked up.

Odd thingy-ma-whatzit.

You don't know what the hell this is. Go take some muggle studies classes, or read a fucking book.

Ron dropped it off to the side haphazardly, as it seemed his dad had done the same with many a discarded item, and approached his dad.

His dad was fiddling with a computer, and looked up as he heard Ron approach.

"Ron." He said, smiling, and dropped his screwdriver (which clattered to the floor), yet put down his wand rather gently on the nearest available surface - which happened to be on top of the monitor.

"Did you want something?" He asked. Ron shrugged, still a little uncomfortable talking to a man that looked decades younger than he had the last time Ron had seen him.

"Uh, yeah." Ron muttered. "Just - wanted to know what all this stuff was." Ron glanced around.

His dad got his attention, by coughing (which, bloody hell, definitely made Ron jump, Merlin's beard.) then handed him a book.

"This'll have most of the information you'll need." His dad informed him. "Not sure if it's all accurate... this contraption's apparently a 'kompiter', of some sort."

Ron sighed. Aloud. Do we really get all this wrong like that?

An alert blocked his view and told him in no uncertain terms that yes, you do.

Ron waved it away mentally, and took the book.

Not bothering to read the title, he flipped through it - Or would have, if it hadn't been for the fact it only had one page and two voice command options.

Would you like to learn the knowledge this book can give you?

yes/no.

Ron shrugged, commanded 'yes' and suddenly understood at least the basic concepts of how wizards view muggle things.

Badly. And very, very incorrectly, his Hermione-conscience snapped. The Possibly-Harry one just shrugged. That's wizards for you, Hermione.

She huffed. Ron rather thinks that he's either going crazy, or he knows his friends too well.

Hell. There's no such thing as too well.

Not in their lives, anyway.

He handed his dad the book back, and the man didn't question it. "Learnt it?" He asked, and Ron nodded. "I can teach you some other things at a later date" Arthur told Ron. "Until then, you can poke around a bit, or go help your mother - the twins were also looking for you, if I remember correctly."

Ron blinked and looked at the time. His quest was due; apparently, he'd spent the two hours already.

Huh. Time flies.

Ron nodded. "Uh, yeah. I'll see what the twins want."

"That's a good lad." His dad said cheerfully, before going back to his job.

It's time to hand in your quest!

3, 2, 1...

Ron expected it when the world went white, this time.

"Ickle-Ronniekins!" Fred - or the one he'd labelled as such, at any rate - stated cheerfully, which did nothing more than gain a grimace and a grunt of annoyed recognition.

"Gee Forge, looks like Ronnie actually managed his task!" George said in a tone... what was probably not mocking, now that Ron thinks about it.

"Where did you hide it, brother o' ours?" Fred asked.

Ron resisted the urge to not tell them, and simply said, flatly, "On the roof."

The two blinked; despite the change in memories, it's not like Ron's personality changed... well. More that it's not like Ron's stats changed; he probably wouldn't have thought of that as a hiding place when his 'backstory' was being generated.

You know. Being at a low int/wiz score and all.

George's lips pulled down at the corners and he nodded - the boy looked at least a little impressed. Fred scowled though; and there was the marker as to who each actually was.

Because contrary to popular opinion, the two aren't actually clones.

Ron was a little surprised his guess was right, but never mind that.

"Didn't think of that." Fred muttered, and George elbowed him. "Good spot." He grudgingly conceded, then continued. "Go get it and meet us outside our room, we'll teach you the basics."

Ron nodded.

This will be in cut scene. You will, when prompted, have to respond to what they're saying - so pay attention!

Ron blinked, and he saw himself go up to the roof, and grab the wand, before flying down, handing the broom over to Ginny, and jogging off at a light pace towards the twins' room.

Once outside it, Ron watched his... 'avatar' be led into the room, and the lesson began.

The whole thing wasn't too interesting - because when the twins said the basics, they meant it... and it was a real shame Ron actually knew all of this - except not really.

Understanding of Hogwarts at too high a level to be raised.

Knowledge of passages cannot be taught; already known. Gained a few passwords however.

Passage from ground floor to seventh unlocked! Password unlocked!

And so it went. Ron gained a few insights he hadn't had previously, but he knew basically all of this (and more), having been a Hogwarts student for far longer than the twelve to thirteen year old twins have, so far at least.

It's weird to be older than your older siblings, Ron reflected. Bloody hell, if you add all those years up and shit, I'm around - what - twenty-eight? Fuck.

That was a weird thought. Ron moved on, because he definitely didn't feel twenty eight, so that can't be right.

Maybe the being a game character made him actually be eleven again?

(Oh, bollocks.)

That won't exactly be pleasant. Luckily, he's not in control of his body at current; so his reflexive grimace went unnoticed by the twins.

Once the 'lesson' was over, Ron was kicked out, and it was time for tea.

The whole thing went so much like any of their other dinners had gone, before - well, before Harry, really. Before Hogwarts, and the War. Before all of that - well, Ron hadn't realised quite how light-hearted they'd all been, back then.

It made him feel nostalgic, which made him seem bloody old, but it was true all the same.

The time passed with laughter and conversations, and if Ron ignored the fact they were all eating with the same exact 'animation' this could almost be real.

But he couldn't. It was too... rigid for human movement, he thinks. Too exact for their's, at any rate.

And so teatime passed by, and Ron went upstairs, caught up in the rush and in his older life's childhood memories.

Ron entered his room and was assaulted with the horrifically bright orange -

And smiled.

Honestly? It was good to be home. Despite the circumstances.


	4. Chapter 4

Ron didn't exactly _wake up,_ the next day. After he'd practically fallen into bed, having equipped his sleep robes, The room faded out, and after a moment, light faded back in again.

Ron was, apparently, doing nothing in his bedroom. The clock chimed ten, and Ron felt himself able to move again.

 _Bloody hell._ He thought. _Going to be annoying, trying to get used to that._

Ron placed down his comic about the muggle guy (it'd been so long since he'd read one of those... ignoring his false memories) and stood. Ron pilfered his wardrobe again, and found the same things he'd found 'yesterday', except this time there was no money.

"Figures," Ron muttered. _Not like we usually leave galleons lying around, after all._

Ron equipped the day robes and the sleep ones dropped to the ground. His 'borrowed' wand was jammed into the lining of his pocket; there was a hole in the seam.

Ron shrugged, and left the room. The hallway faded into existance, and a notice flickered in front of him.

Ron scowled at it.

 _Hey, player._

 _So, today's your second day! There will be no quests today, so I think it might be best for you to find some classes or jobs, practice your skills etc. You have twenty four hours - lucky that you don't need sleep, eh?_

He huffed and waved aside the message, though at the same time took it's advice.

Ron decided to go upstairs; despite the ghoul in the attic, he hasn't gone up there in this life yet, and he has to admit curiosity.

Hesitating at the door, Ron called up the pause menu. _Save._ He thought, and a message in the top corner of his vision flashed; _Game saved in [Slot 1]._

Nodding, Ron closed the menu and opened the door.

* * *

The attic faded into existence, and an alert blocked his view.

 _Good find, player!_

 _This is the dungeon of [The Burrow]. It being a small-ish instance and all, it has enough space for one, but no more - aside from the randomly generated ones in the wild area. You'll find those eventually, but you'll need practice first - and that's what this is for!_

 _Practice Dungeon #1 has been unlocked. There are [?] of this type. Find them all!_

Ron sighed. _Of bloody course_ there was a dungeon in his Attic.

Deciding he might as well make use of this, Ron equipped his wand in the right hand weapon slot, and checked his magic skill.

 _Abysmal,_ he decided. Wandless was actually _better,_ though that might be from his use of non-accidental magic. Ron was hoping he wouldn't have to chance the underage magic thing, but decided having a _0_ skill wasn't a good thing in the long run.

Readying his memories of how to do certain spells, Ron spied a rock (what it was doing in the attic, he has no clue) and cast an experimental _wingardium,_ and it shakily floated. _Damn,_ Ron really was out of practice.

Ron held his breath, but a few minutes passed and no letter came. Releasing a sigh of relief, Ron dropped the rock and started practicing.

(He needs at least a little skill - enough to be able to defend himself, at least, from the creatures and critters no doubt stored within the dungeon.)

* * *

Ron saw another large beetle, sighed, and stood on it.

 _Large beetle killed!_

 _No loot gained!_

Ron rolled his eyes. He'd hoped that there would be something other than bugs in the Attic, but this dungeon seemed to be incredibly easy.

Far too easy, he thought, as he turned a corner. Ron paled.

A medium sized acromantula was in the hallway. Ron immediately crouched, and sighed in relief to see himself in the green and out of the spider's sight range. Creeping back around the corner, he leant against the end of the wall.

 _Entered cover! + 60% bonus to defence based upon cover type, height, and body coverage._

Ron blinked, shrugged, and mentally added this to his list of game mechanics.

Leaning his head around the corner, Ron breathed.

 _Come on, Weasley._ _You've fought worse than this._

Slowly exhaling, Ron lifted his wand, and hesitated. _What spell to use?_ He thought, because he remembers vaguely that Acromantulas are more resistant to magic than most. And the spell Harry used in the forest... _Arania Exumai,_ Ron thinks, only launches them backwards.

Ron grimaces at Charlie's wand. His current wand magic skills are far to low; general wand-based magic is still at zero, and so is his defence based magic. Ron hesitated.

Thnking, _Here goes nothing,_ he raised his wand and muttered, _"diffindo",_ trying his best to power the spell as much as the unmatched wand would allow.

A powerful bolt flew out of his wand and sliced the head of the Acromantula.

 _Medium Acromantula killed!_

 _No loot gained; no vials to retrieve venom, no known spells to extract carefully. Could have used diffindo on the venom sacks, but would have lost 25% and had a 40% chance to get it on you._

Ron shrugged. _S'not like I didn't think I'd need new spells,_ he thought in response.

Ron stood, and moved out from the wall's end. He walked down the hall, grimacing, and stepped over the corpse.

Mentally shivering, Ron walked a short ways further and saved the game.

 _Saved in [Slot 1]._

* * *

It took a little while for Ron to find anything else. One wall was glowing slightly, and examining it, lead ron to noticing a strange... magical link, he would say, to a wall sconce nearby.

Ron pulled the sconce and the wall moved, back into itself and off to the left.

 _Discovered secret passage! As [Ron Weasley], you can find secret passages easier than most! Since you, as [Ron Weasley], need all the help you can get at being a decent player character._

Ron glowered at the alert and viciously thought it gone.

The passage was a small-ish room, with a small chest in the centre. Ron cautiously went over to it, and activated his loot vision. It wasn't purple, surprisingly, so Ron figured that meant there weren't any curses or what have you that might kill him should he try to open it.

Ron went to do just that, and gained a few things.

 _Small loot chest opened!_

 _Luck roll... passed! Large bonus granted!_

 _15 galleons found!_

 _A pair of walking boots, scuffed and second-hand, but the right size, found!_

 _No more loot in the chest._

Ron blinked, and looked down. The boots and gold were on the floor. Ron grabbed the galleons, and pocketed them - it seemed containers could hold an unlimited amount of one thing, but a limited amount of multiple. So, you could have, say, 100,000G, and keep adding, but if the container had only two slots you could only put one other type of object in there - say a wand.

Ron then grabbed the boots and equipped them - the game was right, they did fit, and they were quite obviously second hand, but at least these let him sprint - he figured that would be highly necessary.

Musing at his newfound 'ability', Ron left the room. "Main menu," He called up - as he was alone - and checked the time. Blinking at the lost hours, Ron saw he had shaved off half his time limit. Deciding to explore more at a later date, Ron figured he would wander around the area he's already explored to find more 'enemies', and practice a bit on them for a while.

* * *

Six game hours later Ron was found to have another two levels in general wand skill, and one in offensive magic. Ron had found the categories a little strange; there was the usual defensive, but there was also offensive rather than curses and dark magic, there was transmutation instead of transfiguration and some charms fell under it, like colour changing charms. There was illusion, which were glamours and the like - so mostly what he considered charms, and a few others which, as far as Ron could see, were blocked until he unlocked them.

Ron decided it didn't rightly matter, and after closing his character sheet, left the attic.

* * *

Ron wandered the house, uncertain as to what he was going to do with his last six hours. _Probably should've just stayed in the Dungeon._ He thought ruefully, but he'd decided upon not doing that, and he'd stick with that choice.

Something that bothered Ron was how his family acted, as 'game characters'. His mum never seemed to leave the kitchen, his dad was always in the Garage when not at work during the day, the twins were in their room for three hours, then elsewhere for an hour, then gone again - and Ginny was, during the day, nowhere to be seen, as far as Ron had looked -but was always at the broom shed at night.

He knew all this by asking his mum. Apparently, she was there as a tutorial guide - not just as his mum.

Ron was picking at his food (whenever he entered the kitchen, Molly placed food on the table and Ron wasn't exactly one to refuse her - since, well, he'd gone and died on her in his previous life, Ron felt like she deserved all the time with her son that she wished for) while thinking on all of this.

 _There's surprisingly little to do when people don't act like people._ Ron thought, frowning as his mum returned to waving her wand in a complicated pattern over the stew. _She's done that five times already._

Ron sighed and went back to his food. He wasn't hungry, exactly - in fact, Ron hadn't been hungry at all since returning to 'life' - and Merlin was that the weirdest thing he's ever experienced. Aside from mind-altering Horcruxes and all the shit that happened in his previous life - not needing to eat, at all, ever, just...

Well, it takes him out of 'it.' Of the pit he sometimes falls into every now and again - a few minutes with Ginny, when she seems like herself and its a normal, good conversation but Ron says something and she stops responding for a good minute as the 'game' updates her on what he's talking about. Stuff like that, and not needing to _eat,_ really make him stop and think and _know,_ know that _his life is a game, and he's the only sentient one around._

For now, Ron hopes. He hopes that's only temporary, only for the tutorial. He thinks he might - will, _will_ go crazy if it isn't.

If he sees Harry stop, mid conversation, for a good while because he hasn't a clue what people are talking about. Just stops breathing and stops blinking and _stops,_ completely and utterly. Hermione, reading a book, but only going down a page with her eyes, turning it over, but having the next page be the same one, a loop of infinite pages of the same text and same content.

Ron knows he'd go mad if that were to happen one, one time only. So he eats, picks at his food and watches his mum 'cook' food, over and over and never stop.

"Would you like some pumpkin juice, Ron?" She offered, and he nodded and a cup floated over to the table, the jug levitated out of the fridge and poured a healthy amount of the only drink they had aside from butterbeer and the firewhiskey he'd spied in the top leftmost cupboard, despite the fact that in his previous life they had other drinks like water and milk and all types of juices - since they grow their own foods, that's how they can afford things; their mother tends the garden and sells the food down in the muggle's market, they buy all foodstuffs from the muggle shops for the winter; Mum gets given things from time to time for knitted clothes that keep their kids warm.

(Ottery is one of _those_ muggle villages. One that's surrounded by magicals, wizards and witches like the Weasleys and the Lovegoods. They turn a blind eye more than most would, and don't question how their kids can only need a jumper in midwinter. It's been like this since the village was founded, and it will be like this when it's no longer a village.)

Ron knows if their mum didn't do this, they wouldn't be able to afford much food. And gemino didn't work on food; look at Gamp's laws on transfiguration, gemino counts - and preservation charms only last so long. He's just glad that his mum's dress sense isn't questioned much; robes aren't exactly commonplace in the muggle world. Harry said they didn't have any at all - Ron's just glad wizards adopted trousers from the muggles within the last century. Not all use them, but he's glad most do.

Aside from that one guy at the quidditch cup. Ron sniggered at the memory, and his mum didn't comment, which put his mood right down.

Sighing, Ron abandoned his plate. He'd been experimenting with what food and drink did do, if not fill up his hunger, and he'd found they made his health bar show up and glow, and his energy; stamina bar show up and glow, respectively. He figured that meant foods healed him, and drinks reinvigorated him, which seemed like it'd be useful. Glancing at his mother, Ron grabbed some food and drink from the fridge. He didn't have anywhere to put it, not really, so he decided it was time to go visit his dad.

"I'm going out to the quidditch pitch." Ron lied, since he knew his mum would disapprove of his, well, plan.

"Alright dear." She said, smiling. "While you're out, could you see where the twins are for me? I need them to de-gnome the garden... the little critters are chewing up the cabbages and stealing our potatoes. Not to mention what they do to the poor blackberries..." She complained, muttering. Coughing slightly (and, _blimey,_ was he ever going to get over the irrational twitch in his eye whenever people do that?) she glanced at him for affirmation. "Yeah, sure mum." Ron agreed easily. "I'll go do that first."

His mum smiled. "That's a dear, Ronnie. Run along now - and here, take these sandwiches for them." She held out a distracted hand, holding some sandwiches she'd apparently made in the time it took him to get to the doorway.

Giving a strained smile she didn't register as such, Ron grabbed the sandwiches after shuffling the other food into the grip of his right arm.

 _Quest accepted! Added to journal; Chores and S'mores._

 _Find the twins and hand over the food. It's not S'mores, I've no clue why that's in the name of this quest. After doing so (or before... bribery is an option) convince the two to de-gnome the garden. Bonus points if you don't get roped into it, and even more if you get them to go after Percy instead!_

 _Rewards: Depending on how it's done, there may be increased RP with the twins._

 _Failure: You have to help the twins and, if done completely incorrectly, with Percy. Also a chance at lowering the RP you have with Percy and the twins. Good luck, mate._

Ron sighed. _Bloody hell._

Ron went out the door, and his vision bled white.

After the world finished forming around him and colour had bled back into view, Ron set off for the Quidditch clearing they'd made a little ways from the house. It wasn't in the wild area, thank Merlin, but it was close enough that Ron pondered going in there 'tomorrow' and having a look around, see if there was anything new to find there.

Upon arrival, Ron saw the twins practising their beating; one throwing the other the quaffle and the other trying to hit the other with it by swinging their bat at it.

"Oi!" Ron called out, and one of them (George, Ron dubs) catches the quaffle as Fred goes to land. "Little brother!" He called out, grinning. "What have you come to ask of us Ronnie?" He wondered, teasing slightly.

Ron sighed, but let it go. It was preferred to 'Ickle Ronniekins' at any rate.

"Mum wants you two to de-gnome the garden," Ron states bluntly. "There's food in it if you want." He says, conceding to use the 'advice' the journal alert had given him.

George landed, raising an eyebrow at Fred. "Is our brother dearest _bribing_ us, Forge?" He pondered, a gleam in his eyes.

"It seems so, Gred." Fred agreed, considering Ron. "What if we've eaten?"

Ron was unimpressed. "I know you haven't; I've been in the kitchen since morning, you at least missed lunch."

"He has us there Forge." George admitted. "But what if we'd rather grab some food later, regardless, and just _say_ we did what was expected?" He offered, that gleam still there.

"Or," Fred mused, "How about we just ask you rather kindly to do it instead?"

Ron mentally paused for a moment, then - "How about Percy?" He asked. "He hasn't done any chores in ages; in fact, I'm pretty sure he hasn't left his room once."

George's eye gleam grew, shall we say, a little more mischievous. "Brother here is right, Gred." He addressed Fred, switching up monikers. "That can't be healthy for our dear older brother; he'll already loose all sense of self at the ministry when he graduates, the least we can do is make sure he gets the chance to." He grins, and Fred considers it.

"Food, and you have a deal, little brother." Fred says, and Ron chucks up the sandwiches. "Ooh, bacon." George mutters happily. "Really shouldn't have missed lunch," Fred mutters as the two take back to the air to fly back and put away their brooms. The conversation continues, but the two move out of earshot and frankly Ron doesn't much care about that.

 _Quest complete! Rewards granted; Increased RP with [George Weasley]_

Ron raised an eyebrow at that, but dismissed it. It's not like they're the same person literally, so certain actions would improve relationship with one and not the other, he knows that - it's just a little odd that up until now, the game hasn't acknowledged this.

Shrugging, Ron started walking back to the house.

 _Doesn't matter now anyway. Got to get some storage space for this food._

* * *

As the garage bled back into existence, with the occasional visual glitch, Ron moved over to his dad.

"Uh, hello." He says, and again, his dad looks up - this time, putting the screwdriver down on the computer monitor and leaving his wand where it was on the table. So that was a little different, Ron noted.

"What can I do for you son?" He asked jovially, and Ron shrugged, scuffed his shoe on the floor. "I was wondering if you could expand my pocket?" He asked.

"Is this so you can hide charlie's old wand, or the food you've got there?" He asked grinning, but held up his hand as Ron went to ask how he knew about the wand thing. "Ah - I don't need to know." The expression stayed on his face. "The twins helping you properly?"

Ron shrugged and nodded, and his dad looked pleased. "Good to hear. Have you been helping Ginny, or at least not letting her be alone and possibly fall without anyone there to get help?"

Ron was a little flabbergasted, to be honest. He was pretty sure his dad had had no idea in his last life about Ginny's late night flying, so he'd been pretty certain he wouldn't know about much of anything this time either.

 _Time to forget what I think I know,_ Ron thought, perhaps a little gloomy about that. _People will be different, I should expect that._

"Uh, sometimes." Ron admitted - remembering the one practice he'd had with her, and having flashbacks of a life not lived, where he and Ginny would sneak out at night when 'too young' to fly themselves. His dad nodded approvingly, and Ron felt the slightest pride at that, despite knowing that for all intents and purposes, this wasn't really his Dad - wasn't really Arthur Weasley.

"Well." His dad moved on. "I know you're responsible enough, so I'll do this and add in a preservation spell. Now, listen closely - you won't be able to do this for a while," He warned, "but it's always good to have the know-how regardless of your ability to use it. This is a seemingly simple yet complicated bit of charms work, expanding space - you can't just wave your wand and have a permanently large bag, you have to do a few spells. I like to think of it - what I do in here-" Mr. Weasley waved a hand around the room, and Ron looked as his dad gestured="Enchanting, in a way. I don't generally use runes unless necessary... and you're far to inexperienced to understand that anyway."

Ron conceded that, then listened and watched as his dad made complicated wand movements over Ron's pocket, and enunciated clearly the spells required. A few minutes later, Ron knew spells he couldn't cast, and had a permanently large pocket which would preserve the contents - and a wink meant he knew that included spelled objects placed inside; those spells would have an extended life so long as they were in the pocket.

"There are some other charms you can cast... I think it would be best to make the pocket detachable, so you can put it on other robes like, for example, your future Hogwarts ones," His dad explained. "Since this sort of thing is inherently incredibly useful. I have one myself," He added, pointing to his sleeve and then opening a space by pulling a bit of string that was at the frayed end. "But we've run out of time and Molly is no doubt wondering where we are," He chortled. "So run along and tell your mother I'll be right there, it's fine to start dinner without me." Ron was surprised for a moment, but paused the game and saw that, yes, it was two hours before his timer ran out - and the game seemed intent on forcing a 'normal' day on Ron... sort of. So Ron, breathing to, somehow, calm himself, resumed the game and went out of the garage. The Burrow bled into existence around him - he was standing at the entry to the kitchen, the same one he and Fred and George and Harry had used to try and sneak back home after (basically kidnapping) rescuing Harry from the muggles.

Ron sighed mentally, prepared himself, and sat down. He should get used to this, he thinks, _because this'll be how it is for a while, I reckon._

As Ron ate, he noticed with some suspicion that the 'animations' for eating were more relaxed and unique to the people around him. Percy was as systematic as he'd been in life; cutting up all food before eating, the twins were joking around and his mother was forcing the food to stay firmly on their plate and their forks and their spoons as they gestured to Ginny's amusement; his sister occasionally having to put down her cutlery and cover her mouth as she laughed. His father smiling happily throughout the meal at his family, and his mother's sharp-eyed look for any kind of food fight that might break out due to the twins' antics, right hand firmly on her wand and a charmed knife cutting up her food. She'd occasionally glance down, then take a few bites then glance up again in time to stop some mashed potato flying, and it would repeat. Percy, however, was still too clunky, and Fred and George were still repeating themselves every minute or so, and Ginny would put her knife and fork down in exactly the same way each time, always placing her left hand over her mouth and brushing her hair back from her face with her right.

Frowning, Ron ate, considering. He wondered if this was a side effect of the game - perhaps the tutorial was the game adapting to what he knew and remembered, Ron wondered. Maybe it would take a few days for them all to adjust, but maybe they would all end up as human as possible in their actions and personalities. Maybe, after a while, they wouldn't pause for a minute to catch up what they're supposed to know about - maybe, Ron thought, maybe...

 _Maybe they'll be themselves soon enough._

Ron took a bite of his steak, and smiled. Things were, perhaps, looking up.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Galloping Gargoyles and Other Wizardly Sayings.

Summary:

more stuff happens.

Notes:

I'mmm baacckkk-  
Sorry for the wait, whoops. It's kinda difficult keeping track of everything. Sorry about this. I've got the spreadsheet up and running now, so hopefully, I can keep track a little easier.

FFN: Sorry about not keeping you guys up to date on my work. I'm gonna resolve to at least try to be better on that front.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

* * *

When Ron woke up, he woke up. Granted, the world still faded into view, but he blinked and the colours were there, he was lying in his bed and the roosters were crowing.

"Bloody hell," Ron muttered in surprise. Their roosters were back.

Ron hadn't heard them since his arrival here. It was strange; all of a sudden being woken up by the crowing of animals he hadn't seen the last couple times he'd gone outside.

Granted, Ron wasn't upset about this. In fact, he was quite pleased - it meant that the game was 'updating', so to speak; that the game was slowly fixing itself and becoming more like Ron's previous life and the fake memories he'd gained.

With a much brighter mindset, Ron got up. He looted his room again - gained five galleons due to a really good luck roll - and then left his room... without going through that bloody white fade thing.

"Huh," Ron muttered to himself.

"I'm getting there first!" Ginny called out, sprinted past at full pelt and span into the bathroom.

"Damn it, Ginny," Ron felt himself saying; this was something she'd done a lot in both his previous life and the fake memories he had.

She leaned out, stuck her tongue out at him, grinned, then locked the door behind herself.

Ron would say he had forgotten what she was like before her first year and the trauma therein - except he now has an entire childhood of memories with that same Ginny. This was very much 'in character', so to speak.

Since Ron didn't actually need to use the bathroom for any reason (there are some plus sides to this whole 'player character' thing), Ron turned left and went down the stairs.

"Ron," His mother called out from the kitchen, "Would you be a dear and take this to Arthur for me?" She asked. "I sent the twins to the market and forgot to give them the shopping list, so I'll need to dash out for a moment," Molly explained, and Ron blinked at her.

"Uh - yeah," He agreed, blindsided. "There you go," She smiled, gratefully, as she handed over a plate full of breakfast foods. "It's Saturday," She added, "So Arthur won't be at work and Ginny will be around. See you in an hour; I'll be in the kitchen."

Ah. There's the game character dialogue he'd been expecting.

And with that, she walked out of the house, bag in hand. Ron sighed and followed suit.

* * *

Quest gained - Bring Me Breakfast!

Take breakfast to your dad.

Reward: you expect a reward for common decency? Sheesh. Ugh, fine; twenty XP.

Failure: No penalty.

Ron raised an eyebrow, shrugged, and closed his quest book. Ron walked over to his dad and placed the plate next to him on the desk.

"Hello," Ron said. "Mum asked me to bring you this."

"Ah, thank you, Ron," Arthur said absently, distracted by the lines of text on his screen.

Quest complete! Twenty XP rewarded.

"I have another book if you'd like," Arthur added. Ron paused for a moment before he remembered the book he'd basically absorbed previously.

"Yeah, alright," Ron nodded. Why not.

Ron took the book that his dad offered, opened it, and commanded 'yes'. The information within, while not much better, was a marked improvement on the knowledge the previous book had had.

"Thanks," Ron said, and Arthur nodded.

Figuring that to be that, Ron turned around and left the garage. After the outside had 'zoned', so to speak, Ron made a beeline for the wild area.

He had some training to do.

* * *

Notes:

This is... awfully short, I'm very sorry. I'm just getting a hang of the story again since it's been so long. Which, wow, yikes, I apologize for profusely.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6: ... You'll Be Sure For A Big Surprise

Summary:

Ron has some training to do.

Notes:

I try my hand at action scenes. As you can imagine, since this is kind of my first proper go at action scenes... it doesn't exactly go /well/.

Also, apparently, I just love my fairytale titles. I've used this same one for DYWTB and it's just as unoriginal there.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

* * *

This time, the zoning to the Wild Area was a fade to black and back again, instead of that strange white flash-fade-through.

Ron wasn't going to complain though. The bloody thing gave him headaches, and he couldn't even get headaches anymore. At least, from what Ron could gather.

Regardless - this time, Ron knew that casting any magic wouldn't end up with an owl from the ministry and some serious explaining to do, so he simply marked the trees he passed with a diffindo, using a sort of tally marking system to know how many trees he'd passed.

Ron was still only level one - so the 'monsters' he came across were generally simply cockroaches magnified by five, which, whilst not the nicest things, weren't exactly dangerous or scary.

Ron, of course, avoided the area of the woods that was a) much darker than the rest and b) covered in spider webs. Fucking hell, it's as if the bloody thing's trying to give me a panic attack or something.

Well, that was that - Ron turned around and speed walked in the other direction and made a mental note to avoid west until he had some proper firepower. Meaning about twenty more levels of the offensive magic skill... he just really doesn't like spiders, alright?

Anyway - this meant that it took much longer for Ron to find anything interesting. He saw a couple centaurs (which thankfully weren't hostile) and steered clear of them, just in case. He caught a glimpse of a unicorn, but once he'd turned his head it was gone. Then came the acromantula that crept up on him.

"Fuck!" Ron cried out and scrambled backwards. "Fuck fuck fuck - "

Ron, having dropped his wand, was fairly unable to do much of anything. He desperately threw his hand out to try and activate his controllable accidental magic, but that didn't work.

"Fuck fuck fuck-" He kept chanting, scrambling backwards - and then it hit him.

Just punch it.

By this point, Ron had backed himself up to a tree. The acromantula was advancing menacingly, clicking its pincers and standing roughly about Ron's own height, which was terrifying enough thank you very much, except it could also talk and was mocking him.

"Fuck you," Ron said instead, and thought - I gave myself the natural flyer trait, right? And controllable accidental magic. And Flying says there's an ability unlocked at the highest level... and I think I know what that is.

For now, though...

Ron planted his feet on the ground, firmly, pressed his hands into the rough bark and thought -

wingardium leviosa.

And he was flung straight into the air.

... Probably not his best decision.

It worked, though. Blimey - Hermione'd shake her head, but she'd be proud. And Harry'd probably say something like 'brilliant!' and then fling himself off his broom or something equally Harry-like.

Ron's not ashamed to admit he screamed during descent. The acromantula looked like what Ron perceived to be incredulous (on an Acromantula's... face... thing... it was hard to tell).

Ron plummeted to the ground - but had the brilliant idea to move his arm as if he planned to punch the acromantula into the ground.

And -

"... what."

It worked. Not that Ron's hand didn't hurt - indeed, it smarted a little. But it fucking worked. He didn't go splat on the forest floor, he didn't break his arm, his arm didn't bounce off the acromantula's... whatever as he'd mostly expected -

It. Fucking. Worked.

Merlin's fucking beard.

Fucking - **Morgana. I'm that serious.**

... Ron might be in a little shock right now. It's understandable, really; he should likely have died and... Ron actually hasn't done that yet. Not since his real death, anyway, and he rather doesn't want to relive the experience.

Also - reloading would be a pain. Thinking of this, Ron saved. Always best to be prepared, after all... especially if you plan on launching yourself into the air and sucker punching an acromantula to death.

There was a notification scroll blocking his vision that Ron hadn't noticed yet. Likely because his eyes had been squeezed shut for most of the descent and a few minutes after - out of shock, a little fear. Maybe if he couldn't see his arm break, it wouldn't.

Regardless - there was a notification. Ron looked at it, askance, before reading the thing in full.

Ability unlocked!

Gravity Punch! Look at you, Mr Inventor! This might as well be a fighting game. Well, it is, actually. A strategy one, in fact, and you'll need abilities later on down the line during battle - your neat little addition will surely only help in the long run.

Also... fuck you. Why'd you have to go and figure out exploits to the system **already?** Fuck you. We worked hard on this shit.

... Well, whatever. Here's what the thing does, I guess:

Launch yourself into the air prior to use, or have the 'high-ground' advantage to an enemy. Throw a punch at the enemy for MAXIMUM DAMAGE, thanks to the wonderful force known as broken video game physics. Activatable by thinking really fucking loudly. Seriously, you didn't have to shout, mate, your spell would have worked regardless - but now you've made it that you'll need to shout. Mentally. Ha. I totally got the last laugh. Really. Shut up.

Ron sighed. Well, at least he'd gotten something from all of this aside from snarky remarks that ended in rather lame defensiveness.

* * *

Ron walked a few more - he's not really sure - but regardless, Ron walked deeper into the woods.

He didn't expect to find a girl not that much younger than himself wandering around with a... picnic basket? And flowers?

Oh... kay. Then. The Wild areas were pretty strange and murderous, so what she was doing here, Ron had no idea.

Wild Event!

Ron frowned, eyes focused on the text that had popped up in the corner of his vision.

Quest added! If You Go Down To The Woods Today...

Go talk to the girl and see what she's doing in the middle of the woods all alone, picking flowers and holding a basket. I mean, come on. That's weird, right?

Reward: ?SYSTEM ERROR?

Failure: you didn't help the little girl. Shame on you and your family. -10 RP with everyone in the world.

Ron scowled. He really didn't want to start off life at a -10 RP disadvantage with literally everyone ever; especially not Harry. He - wasn't sure if he was going to try and bring Hermione into the fold this time around... her parents and the little girl he had known didn't deserve what had happened.

And he'd started at a pretty low RP with her in his previous life anyway. Ron had checked. It was abysmal.

(It kind of stung that part of that was because she'd thought he was dumb - but then, tiny Hermione had thought everyone was dumb and that she was the only exception. Ahh, the narcissism of the smart youth. Ron has no fucking clue what he's saying, by the way.)

Starting at a low RP with Harry though? He might as well kiss all chances of being his best mate again good-fucking-bye. Harry wasn't exactly the sort to re-judge people once he'd made his decision, after all. Especially when he was (even more) tiny.

Ahh, short jokes. They got old real fast with Ginny, but Harry had found them funny. Thing was, they both gave as good as they got - but Ginny got mad, sometimes, and Harry just... didn't.

"Fucking - fine," Ron muttered to himself. "Wild events? What the hell even is that shit?"

I really like semi-current Action-RPGs. The one that mechanic is based on rhymes with Bellout. Bellout... shoe chegas.

What the fuck? Ron grumbled and dismissed the notifi-scroll.

"Oi," Ron called out to the girl, who yelped and spun around. She had tanned, freckled skin, as if she spent a lot of time outside - given her current venture, Ron thought that was likely - and short black hair. "Hey!" She cried out, petulant. Her eyes - dark grey, kind of on the small side with low set eyebrows above which gave her a permanently slightly sad expression - narrowed at him in suspicion.

"What are you doing deep in the dark woods?" She asked. "You ought to know it's not safe out here. Mother said to never stray from the path, yet you came from off of it. How am I to know I can trust you?"

Ron frowned at her, and she pouted. "Plus - you scared me." She muttered, indignant.

"You're the one mucking about in my backyard," Ron grumbled. God, Ginny wasn't this annoying at eight. Right?

Or maybe he'd been just as annoying. Ron grimaced at the thought.

... yeah, he probably was just as annoying. Crap.

"Your backyard?" She asked, eyes still narrowed. "This is my backyard, and I'm off to see my grandmother. She lives just down the road a ways, and she's very ill. I'm taking her some food -" The girl lifted her basket, indicating it with her other hand (the one holding the flowers) -"And then I'll be off home again."

"If she's ill," Ron frowned, "What were you doing picking flowers, then?"

The girl looked slightly guilty for a moment before it went away. "A rather lovely wolf-man told me they were very pretty, and they most certainly are - look!"

Ron didn't look at the flowers. He gawked at the girl.

"What?" She demanded, indignant. "Don't you mean werewolf?" Ron demanded, suddenly fearful. If there was a werewolf in these woods... well. Chances were that he (considering she called the wolf a man) isn't anything like Lupin.

"No," She frowned at him, "And why would you call this wonderful being anything so horrible? why, I should slap you on his behalf for the insult."

"Think about it," Ron insisted. "You're on your way to your gran's. This 'wolf-man' comes out of nowhere and tells you about flowers then buggers off? What are you supposed to think other than 'that was an obvious distraction tactic, I should make sure gran's okay?'"

The girl suddenly looked stricken. "Oh no!" She cried out. "What terrible trickery! Quick, we must go save her!" And with that, the girl dropped her basket, turned, pulled up the hood of her cloak - slightly out of fashion within the wizarding world's 'high elite' which is saying something - and sprinted off in what Ron assumed to be a north-ish direction.

Ron, after quickly saving, ran after her. If he didn't, the girl was likely to get herself killed.

"Hold up!" He called out. "You can't just rush on in there!" He shouted. "There needs to be a plan!"

"There's not the time for a plan!" She called in response, skidding to a halt behind some bushes and catching Ron before he could sprint on past her. "We're here," She said, hushed.

"We're going to go in. One of us will sneak in from the window, and the other will distract the evil wolf-man until either help arrives or the other finishes him as he is due."

"Wait - you want to kill him?" Ron asked.

"Well of course," She frowned at Ron from under her hood. "He has likely eaten my grandma. Eaten her. Whole. All at once. Down the gullet-"

"Yes, alright," Ron interrupted. This was part of the video game, after all. Ron hoped he wasn't part of one of those 'plot twist' quests the game talked about... but he felt it was a little too early for that, level-wise, anyway.

"Well," The girl seemed to steel herself. "Shall you do the sneaking, or I?"

"I will," Ron said, immediately. Sneaking, he could cheat the system. But with charisma - his stat was terrible. It was far more likely for him to screw that up than this girl, who had probably been made with this specific quest in mind; able to do either so long as the player could do the other.

The girl nodded. "You may call me Red," She said, imperiously. "Everyone does."

"Why?" Ron asked. She frowned at him. "Don't be obtuse," She chastised. "My riding hood, of course. It's red, you see." She over-explained, and Ron got the distinct feeling this was 'Red's' way of insulting him.

"Ron," He said.

"A pleasure despite the circumstances," She murmured. "If you aid me in this, I shall forever be in your debt."

Quest updated!

If You Go Down To The Woods Today...

Luck roll... succeded! High reward gain!

Reward updated!

Reward: gain Red Riding Hood's favour! She shall join you in all future wild-area battles and will aid you in general by permanently increasing your CHR by 1! Any debuffs will not remove this additional Charisma, and it will stack above your usual Charisma limit. Lucky you! Since Red is in your party, you can call her up at any time, and she will age alongside yourself. If you can figure out how to get her and magic to cooperate, she can even go to Hogwarts and aid in Hogwarts' forbidden forest battles!

Huh. That seemed... useful.

"Let's go," Red said, confidently. "Give me a minute, then go in the window in the back. Once I've opened the pantry, the door should give you enough cover to drop in. After that, it's a matter of lying low."

"Alright," Ron agreed. "Lead the way."

Party: The Fairytale Group, Created! Leader: Defaulted to [Ron Weasly] as no other Leader-enabled characters are available.

Ron blinked. What?

Hey there! So you've joined your first party. Congrats! Most don't get theirs until Hogwarts' first proper party instance, which is ages away for you, so well fuckin' done, mate!

Regardless, I'm betting you want to know what the hell a party is. Well, right now, I hate to admit the code on that isn't quite finished, so Parties are a little buggy, however, all the features are there! You can command your other party member; think of it as playing chess. Parties are really, really important for battles, as their combined powers are far more than you could ever have alone, and as an added bonus, it enables the strategic battle mode! Higher levels of CHR increase the number of party members you can have at a current time, however people like [Red Riding Hood] don't take up a slot, but they're super rare, so well done for rolling that luck roll!

Not that that was anything you did in particular. You were just lucky.

(It's a fucking broken stat, luck, but I figure you knew that already. Oh well. Not much we can do about it now.)

Ron read it through, carefully, then closed the box.

It had been long enough, Ron figured, and so he went over to the window. As expected, the door was open as was the window itself, so all Ron had to do was climb in.

"My, what big eyes you have, Grandma!" Red said. Best make this quick.

Ron went into stealth mode - and there, the floor was green but on top of the couch didn't have any colour. He climbed onto it, and neither Red nor the actual fucking wolf-man, what (think about that later) - saw him. Ron moved from surface to surface, arrived at the kitchen counter and grabbed the pan from the old-fashioned cooking pot, then turned around.

"All the better to see you with, my dear," The wolf-man badly posing as an old lady said. Ron could see Red's carefully concealed fist clench in anger, even as she smiled politely, a ditzy sort of expression.

Ron crept over to the two, stayed on top of furniture as much as he could. Threw the couch's cushions onto the floor in the green, dropped onto them and did a slightly awkward shuffle towards the red, in order to get closer to the wolf-man and Red herself.

Ron didn't bother announcing himself. He simply bonked the wolf over the head with the pan, just before the wolf-man could answer Red's exclamation of "My, what big teeth you have, Grandma!"

Ron stepped off the cushion and Red blinked as he stood from a crouched position.

"Where did you come from?" She demanded. "What-"

Before she could answer, there was an almighty crash, the result of the door being chopped off its hinges and falling to the floor.

"Hey!" Red called out. "That took a long time to build, you know!"

Ron sighed and readied his cooking pot. He rather thought the two probably looked a little ridiculous - Ron in his wizarding robes and walking boots and this girl in the centuries-old even by the traditionalist wizards' standards red riding hood and general getup.

Aside from the picnic basket. Ron figured that was a pretty new thing, right?

(Don't ask him. He failed history.)

"I'm -"

The woodsman that had broken down the door (which, by the way, Red was still going on about) stopped in his tracks at the sight of an unconscious wolf-man, an eleven-year-old kid in a robe holding a pan and a little girl in a bright red hooded cloak.

"It appears I'm late, then," The woodsman frowned. "Hmm."

"You expected to be needed?" Ron asked, suspicious.

"Woodsman was always jealous of grandmother's house," Red muttered, eyes narrowed. "I say we kill him."

"What?" Ron blinked at her. "No!"

Red frowned, petulant. "Fine," She muttered. "Give me the axe," She demanded, eyeing the Woodsman like one might eye their worst enemy. One they'd perhaps like to flay alive.

The Woodsman handed over the axe.

Red turned around and slammed the axe across the wolf's neck, and Ron had to jump backwards to avoid the blood.

"Shit!" He cried out. "Red, what - Merlin's-"

Ron didn't get to finish that, as Red set about cutting open the wolf's stomach. Both Ron and the Woodsman were both utterly speechless as Red did this - the Woodsman attempted to back up out of the cottage but Red turned a steel-eyed glare in his direction and he sat down, firmly, onto the couch.

It was official. Ron had made a terrible decision today.

What happened moments later - a thing that, well, nearly made both Ron and the Woodsman vomit - was that somehow, against all odds, Red pulled her grandmother free from the stomach of the wolf.

"Granny!" She cried out, took off her undercoat and draped it around the woman's - well, blood-and-who-knows-what-else covered torso.

"My dear Maghenyld", Red's grandmother murmured - voice hoarse. "Thank you for your great deed today."

"It was not me alone, Grandma!" Red exclaimed. Merlin, Ron knew why she went by Red now if that was her name. He didn't have a clue how to even start pronouncing that.

"This Ron aided me in my rescue of you!" She added, glancing in Ron's direction.

"And a finer young man there never was," The Grandmother said, gratefully, "If there is anything you need, son, anything at all - don't hesitate to ask. You helped save a life today, as well as saving a young girl heartache. I cannot thank you enough."

Ron blinked at the praise, but he figured it was probably warranted. "Your Red was the one to kill the beast, **Rosamund," The Woodsman said, gruffly.**

 **"I am aware," The grandmother replied, cooly. "Please, fix the door on your way out."**

 **The Woodsman winced. Ron took a proper look at him and was surprised by the youth hidden by his beard and many, many scars.**

 **Well. He was a Woodsman that apparently hunted 'beasts' on a regular basis. That's rather likely to age you prematurely.**

 **"Understood," The Woodsman replied.**

 **"Oh, and Ralf?" 'Rosamund' asked. "Yes?" He replied.**

 **"Don't ever use me as bait again."**

 **The Woodsman winced and turned around before he picked up the door and took a few tools from his pockets and started to work.**

 **Ron turned back to the grandmother and her granddaughter.**

 **"Thank you," Red said, sincerely. "I hope we may become friends following this."**

 **Ron nodded, awkwardly. She'd just cut a wolf-man's head off and opened up his stomach; Ron knows when not to argue. Sometimes. This - is one of those times.**

 **"Yeah," He said. Red smiled, nodded - and disappeared.**

 **Quest complete!**

 **If You Go Down To The Woods Today...**

 **Wild Event one complete! You have unlocked future wild events!**

 **Reward - companion; Red Riding Hood - gained!**

 **CHR Now at 7! Base CHR now 1 instead of 0!**

 **Ding ding! You've levelled! Time to check your character sheet to see what you can spend and what you can sell and what you can buy!**

 **Ron grinned. He left the broken down shack that had replaced Rosamund's home before opening the menu so that he would have some light, and then took a look at his character sheet.**

 **You are now Level 2! Slightly less of a Pureblooded-Noob, but not much less. Maybe more of a newbie than a noob.**

 **You have: enough to upgrade one stat and add some health or mana (or both!). You will need 400 XP for the next level up.**

 **(You may add all your available points to health or mana, but you do not have enough for more than one stat upgrade.)**

 **Ron shrugged. He decided he'd come back to this later after he'd checked if any traits/abilities had any pre-requisites.**

 **You have five trait points. you can buy back Goody Gryffindors, or you can buy any of the following:**

CONSTANT VIGILANCE! [locked; need to reach instance 'fourth year' of Hogwarts and have successfully completed Mad Eye's first class.]

Surprise Inheritor: Money money money, must be funny - oh, wait, you won't get that reference. Uh. Awkward. Anyway... this gives you money, at the expense of a random family member dying. One you don't know, of course. Just someone you're related to. A permanent +30000 galleons to your bank account, no matter what you spend, but also -100 RP points with your family. Who cares, right? You're rich!

Ron glared at the sheet. "No thanks," He said, viciously, before moving on.

Third time's the charm: Every third day, your luck is increased by 1, and on this day, every third luck roll has its chances for success doubled and failures halved.

Ron blinked and immediately took that one.

you have no trait points. Go elsewhere, or sell a trait for its points.

You have no traits to sell. Go elsewhere.

Ron rolled his eyes and went over to abilities.

You need to find some ability perks to level up your abilities, or you need to go out and use them more! Abilities can be made or discovered or created with the use of a perk orb, but aside from that, this sheet can be used to track your current progress!

You have two abilities that can be levelled; Parseltongue and Gravity Punch.

Ron shrugged and went back to the stats menu, before dropping a plus one to strength. Next, he'd do endurance and then vitality, then he'd make everything even with luck. Ron figured eight was an okay base stat for everything, at least early game.

Ron added the rest equally into health and mana, making them now at an equal 260.

Ron nodded to himself and closed the menu. Time to go home, he figured.

* * *

Notes:

I'm sorry? I'll improve promise.

(I... wouldn't be lying if I said I was using this story as a guinea pig for my action scene writing ability. Given the clunkiness of that previous sentence... yeah. This didn't go well.)


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7: Red.

Notes:

June: 'I shall get [ a new chapter ] out soon-ish'  
now: /January/

Apologies, guys. Man, I suck.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

* * *

The next few game days passed by much the same. A lot of grinding and exploring of the Wild Area - still, of course, avoiding the acromantulas - and the Dungeon in the Attic. He also practiced flying alone, and a few times with Ginny, spent some time in the garage learning what he could of muggle creations, and occasionally helped out his mum when asked to.

All in all, getting his stats up to 8 across the board didn't take that long, really. He didn't find much of any new loot, or enemies more interesting than cockroaches (and the occasional terrifying Acromantula) and there were no more Wild Events for those few days.

Another week passed, and it was much the same. The only noticeable things to happen were - well. People becoming more like people.

See, since he'd found himself here, at the burrow, people he'd known in his previous life, his family, hadn't acted like themselves. They had acted like - fake people; NPCs, as games called them, who all shared the same animations, had slightly clunky dialogue and would wait an hour for him to say his line in their conversation without blinking an eye.

But now... it flowed better, for lack of a better term. People acted like people, had their own movements and ways of doing things - they didn't just stop when Ron said something they should know and they had to process that - they nodded and continued, said processing taking a much shorter, unnoticeable amount of time.

They were people. Conversations felt real. Ron, if he ignored the game elements of his life now, could almost pretend this was the reality he'd known.

And that was nice. It was nice to feel less... alone.

* * *

Ron trudged his way into the Wild Area for another grinding session. The place apparently 'respawned' every forty-eight hours, and since it had been about three days since his last visit, all the things he'd gotten rid of up to that point had reappeared. Of course, that also mean all loot was back, which was nice, but there wasn't really much of any in the woods anyway, so less nice than you'd think.

It had been nearly two weeks since the last interesting thing had happened - and Ron hadn't gotten anywhere near complacent. Something was different about the Wild Area today; the sky seemed a little darker (from what he could see through the canopy, which was thicker than normal) and the underbrush deader, with more leaf litter scattered on the floor.

Ron was none too pleased when he came across a dead unicorn.

"Fuck," Ron muttered, staring at the terribly beautiful creature. Terribly, because it was dead. "Fuck, alrigh' - what is it now?" He muttered, glancing around.

"Oi, Red," He called, and heard movement behind him. Ron turned, and there was the young girl with the unpronouncible - at least to Ron - name.

"You called?" She nodded to Ron. "I saw the creature. Beautiful, of course; I've heard of the unicorn, and I'd say it's nice to see one, but..." She glanced to the dead animal. "In these circumstances, I'd have to say it's not."

"Right," Ron agreed. "Well, I figure it probably wants us to-"

"Avenge it by murdering the man or beast what killed it?" Red finished, which wasn't exactly what he was going to say, but then. She was like that.

"Right," Ron said. "Well, I thought you might want t' help, yeah?"

"Thank you!" She grinned at him, and spun around, her hood falling down as she turned. "I can see tracks in the mess on the ground," She said, stalking towards the dead unicorn. Ron followed, warier.

"They look like feet," She said, "Shoes-clad feet, so I figure it's human,"

"Great," Ron said. Hold on.

Ron paused the game and opened up the help section. He searched for a few moments, and then found what he was looking for.

human enemies will be locked until after fourth year, and only included in ambushes (unlocked third year) until after fifth.

Right, alright, so it can't be a fucking human, then, can it? Unless Wild Events are excluded from this rule, which would be fucking brilliant, now, wouldn't it?

Yep! Wild Events are indeed excluded from the rule, so good fucking luck you little shit.

"I hate you," Ron said, flatly, the world still paused. There was, of course, no response, so he scowled and waved away the alert. Bastard.

Ron unpaused the game and walked over to Red, who was simply standing and staring down at the unicorn, having gotten far too close for Ron's comfort, but oh well. (Bugger. If this is a fucking ambush -)

Ron glanced around as she stopped next to the girl. "D'you think it could be a trap?" He asked.

"Possibly," She said. "But I doubt it's more dangerous than the wolf-man was. And that horde of giant spiders."

Ron shuddered.

"Hopefully," Ron said. The horde hadn't actually been that bad, in the end... Ron did get stuck in a tree, though. The Gravity Punch move just needs some work, is all.

Red nudged the unicorn with her boot. "Definitely dead," She said. "The footprints lead that way -" She pointed to the left, towards where Ron knew a cave and abandoned campsite was.

Oh. Great.

"Let's get goin' then," Ron said. Red nodded, turned, and stalked off in the direction the footprints lead.

Ron hadn't gotten the notification for a Wild Event, yet.

We updated that 'last night'. More immersive, this way, and ratings say people like that more.

"Not when they're living it, you fucking bastard," Ron grunted, waving away the alert.

"Come on!" Red said, glancing back then continuing on. Ron sighed and jogged to catch up with her.

* * *

Werewolves.

Fucking werewolves. And not ones like Professor Lupin, either; no, that'd have been nice. No, these lot rather reminded Ron of Fenrir Greyback; wild, and very, very in-tune with their beastly halves.

And, oh yeah - fucking werewolves have improved scent.

'Pause' Ron thought, frantically, and the world bled to grey.

'Okay Weasley, think. What can you do?'

Well, Gravity Punch wasn't going to work. There were too many of them, for starters - and since the spell was wandless and wordless, something he really should have considered at the time, it took a lot of 'mana'... which, apparently, Ron had realised earlier but hadn't thought about much since then and was currently cursing himself out for it, changed how magic worked.

See, wizards don't have a 'magical core', or a 'mana pool', or whatever the fuck the newest magical theory tried to propose. It was very simple.

Magic lived within them, any magic user. It lived, and it was infinite. Magic could decide whether you were worthy or not, and it was magic that your wand was attuned to, though you did influence that at least somewhat.

But. Not here. Here, magic was entirely dependent on the individual. It was not, as far as Ron could tell in the documentation, anything beyond another stat. It was, indeed, the same as health - which, Ron noted, was very different to real life, too. Health and Mana were used up when you, for the former) got injured, and for the latter, did magic. He could increase his 'pools' of both, so to speak, but it didn't necessarily, from what he could tell, grow with him as he aged.

Which was... odd, but nothing Ron couldn't deal with. One thing he'd found from the Acromantula Incident was that he couldn't break bones - he just lost health. It was - interesting. Useful, in a way, to not suffer significant injuries. But it did mean that Magic wasn't saving him from pain; if he fell too far, he'd die, magic wouldn't make him bounce unless he willed his own to do so.

But that was all besides the point. The point was, his magic being finite meant that he had to be careful about using it, like he assumed anyone else in the game-world, though... nobody had acted differently in ways that would make sense back at the burrow if that's the case. However magic does regenerate, unlike health, so... maybe it wouldn't affect things as much as Ron had thought likely? In any case - he wasn't going to be able to brute-magic his way through this... not least because of that, but because this was a group of grown men and women, and, oh yeah, he's ten and she's eight.

Fuck.

Ron sighed and ran a hand down his face, agitated. He leant to the side to look around the menu - and froze at seeing Red poking one of the werewolves in the eye.

"Red?" Ron called out, confused.

"This is decidedly odd, Ron," The girl said, disconcerted. She looked back up at him. "Have they frozen? The world is also much... bleaker than a few moments ago."

"... Uh." Ron glanced around. "... Well."

... so there's a few bugs with the party system, alright? We have more important things to fix, like the bug stopping you from advancing beyond - you know what, nevermind, you don't need to know that, you'll have done first year by the time we've fixed it. You won't be anywhere near fourth at this rate - no, no, no, what we mean is - um.

Fuck off.

Ron rolled his eyes and dismissed the notifi-scroll. The bastard wasn't even worth the 'evil' title Ron's saddled him with; maybe incompetent?

"Can you check their camp?" Ron asked, his feet still firmly rooted to the ground in front of the menu.

"Of course," Red nodded, and she pulled up her hood then started skulking around. She was, as Ron had suspected, good at both Charisma - in terms of deception - Stealth, and some more violent skills. It was useful to note, though he'd noted that when the Incident had happened.

Ron shivered. A horde of Acromantula. Ron was starting to get the sneaking suspicion that the game was attempting to lower his fear of spiders by sheer exposure.

It was not, by the way, working at all.

"Clear," Red said, standing in front of Ron. "A chest of some sort, some bags - worthy loot, I imagine. No more than five of the men - and women- lupine-shifters. Anything else?"

"Can you affect them?" Ron asked.

"Well I poked that guy's eye out," She gestured carelessly. "His hands were stained with the blood of innocents, literally. The unicorn's blood was all over him, and as for the rest, I could smell the stench of decaying flesh on their breaths. They'd feasted recently - and I doubt it was pig."

Ron grimaced. "Well, could you..." Ron hesitated.

goody Gryffindor! triggered - hold the fuck up there, sonny-boy!

That was a potentially underhanded action, and while [slytherins aren't **bad** people necessarily] you are most certainly not one of them! A true Gryffindor would never do such a thing!

Ron blinked rapidly.

"Oh fuck off," He said, mostly because of the surprise. Red frowned at him. "Not - not you, blimey, sorry, no-"

Ron glared angrily at the notification. "You seem distracted," Red admonished. "Now is not the time for distraction, Ron, there is a unicorn to avenge!"

"I know, bloody hell, just, give me a minute," Ron said, agitated.

Fuck. Off. Ron thought, loudly, in the direction of the trait.

"Do some damage," Ron said, quickly, then winced at a surge of guilt he really wouldn't normally be feeling. "Not - not enough to do damage," He added, and the guilt subsided, and, fuck, he needed to get rid of that stat - "Just - what you can. Enough. So they won't hurt another unicorn?" He tried.

No guilt. In fact, it subsided entirely. Oh, thank Merlin.

Red smiled, and oh yeah.

Those were not limiting words for her.

* * *

Ron did not get to see any action. None of the werewolves was dead, of course - just.

Ron glanced warily at the axe Red was wielding as she slammed it into the last elbow joint she'd yet to chop into.

... They would probably bleed out within the next few hours if they were human. As it stands, they're not all wizards or witches, either - some unfortunate muggles and squibs mixed in; two squibs, a muggle, a witch, and a wizard - but either way, they're werewolves, and the full moon, from what Ron can see of the sky, is tonight. This night. Which is going to occur very soon.

They need to be out of here stat.

... Even if Red chopped off all their legs, too.

Ron grimaced heavily as he rooted through the bags in the campsite via the game's mechanics for inventories; no way was he sticking his hands in those, that was just a recipe for disaster. Anyway, he netted no galleons, for obvious reasons, but he did get a pair of trousers in the current wizarding stylings (he's not going to question why they fit well, that way would just lead to madness) and he found, thanks to a very high luck roll...

a mokeskin pouch. What fucking luck. The game was right; this stat was broken. Mokeskin pouches were rare, expensive, and invaluably useful, since they combined extensive storage and personal privacy, and had the ability to hide from people who might want to steal them or their contents.

This was the luckiest find he'd had so far. And if he gets his luck higher...

Oh boy.

He has an even eight since he's now level four, but... that's a stat he should sink his points into. Because with more luck, Ron figures, he'll have better chances to gain xp and more stat increases anyway.

So. Plan. Always have Luck at least one point above the rest of his other stats.

POA created! WIS + 1, INT + 1!

Ron grinned.

In comparison to his finds in that bag, the chest was much less rewarding. Still, a new-ish set of robes, no shabbier than what he was used to but with a few more pockets and plain black work ones, so he could use them for Hogwarts if he really wanted to, and since they fit better than his brothers' ones he definitely will be using them - was better than nothing. Ron stood from his place kneeled next to the chest, and turned to face Red.

"Guess we're done here," He said.

"Indeed," She smiled at him. "It was good working together again. We always have the best adventures!" And with that, she was off. Somewhere. Instantly.

Ron shrugged. Today had been decent, so. Home it was.

* * *

The start of Hogwarts grew ever closer, and Ron still had no clue how to get it so Red played nice with magic enough to call her at Hogwarts. It wasn't just, indeed, because he'd like her help - but, call him crazy, she seemed like a good friend to have, too, and he didn't want to just leave her alone all year.

Not that she'd be alone alone, not like Harry was at the Dursleys, but still.

Loyal - to a fault, triggered!

 **Quest - figure out how to get Red playing along nicely with magic, and also maybe how to pronounce her name? Because it's fucking rude of you not to at least try; i mean. Think of all the shit you gave Krum for not being able to say Hermione... more than anything it's very hypocritical.**

 **Objectives:**

 **Main: Get Red able to visit Hogwarts**

 **Secondary: Maybe learn to pronounce her name? Just maybe? You rude fuck?**

 **Failure: Something horrible, I assure you.**

Ron scowled.

He sighed, accepted the quest and stood, then stretched. His mother was cooking, but it was different to what she'd been cooking the first few weeks, as it had been the last few days, which was nice. And the fact that they had more than just basic wizarding food and drink was nice, too - the firewhiskey would have been gone, but Ron... might have stashed it. Either way, it wasn't in the cupboard any more, but neither his mum or his dad had said anything to anyone, so he's pretty sure they hadn't even known they'd had it in the first place.

"There's nothing bothering you, is there, Ronnie?" Ron blinked at his mother somewhat owlishly, then shook his head. "Uh - no," Ron denied.

There was a lot, actually, constantly bothering him, such as the fact that he'd left everyone he'd known behind and maybe this was really the afterlife and maybe he'd never actually see them again but who knows maybe he will, but maybe the people he meets here won't be what he remembers them to be and maybe, just maybe, if Harry or god, Hermione, just isn't right, maybe that might be the last straw.

But... his answer was no because there was not really anything that his mother could help him with.

Except. Could it be that easy?

"Well." Ron paused. "Actually." He hesitated.

"What is it, dear?" She asked, concern taking over her features.

"There's just, uhm." Ron paused. Saved the game, then hesitated. Then, because he had just saved for this very reason, straightened and said.

"Red." Very clearly.

"What-" Molly Weasley did not finish her sentence.

"You called?" Red smiled. Then blinked, and looked around. "Oh, is this your house?" She looked around, curiously. "Much nicer than grandmother's, I do have to say - though, I suppose what with the renovations we need to make after that wolf-man incident, that's not hard to say, so I should say - it's very nice," She complimented. "And you're Ron's Mother, I presume?" Red asked, and didn't wait for confirmation before she semi-curtseyed to his mum. "I'm Maghenyld MacGilhonylt of Wochingas, though I live very far from there," She introduced herself.

Ron, by the way, had no idea where Wochingas was. Or even if it was a real place.

Many expressions flitted across his mother's face, but eventually, she settled on 'lost child must protect' and surged into motion. "You're very far from home then, dear child," She said, worriedly moving to procure some food for the girl. Never let it be said Molly Weasley ignored a child in need because that would be fucking false.

"Not particularly," Red said, moving to sit at the table as she assumed she was supposed to. Given that his mum had just deposited a bowl of stew, some bread, and various other random bits of food onto it, Ron didn't think that assumption was unwarranted. "I live just through the woods."

"Of course," Molly said, but there was a worry in her eyes Ron could spot a mile off. "Just through the woods."

"Grandmother lives there," Red informed Ron's mum. "Rosamund..." She hesitated. "Rosamund Kermarrec of Friese - though she's lived here most her life." she hurried to add, glancing between them. At their non-reaction, the girl relaxed. "Paganism, you see - she was rather persecuted at home."

Molly looked up sharply. Red faltered. "Is your grandmother a witch?"

"No!" Red said, hotly, standing up on her chair. For the first time he'd seen her - she looked scared. "No! Grandmother is no witch! You and your church can leave us be!" The girl held out her soup-spoon threateningly, but her hand shook.

"I'm - dear, no, you misunderstand," Molly said, soothingly, settling into a more formal speech pattern, Ron noticed, likely to settle Red's nerves. "We are not aligned with the church." She glanced at Ron, then added softly, "There will be no burnings on my watch, my dear."

 **Oh.** Fuck, Ron's an idiot. How the fuck else did her grandmother survive being eaten, for fuck's sake?

Red hesitated. "You promise?" She asked, tentatively.

"We aren't well liked either," Molly said, soothingly. She slowly pulled out her wand and sent some sparkles into the air. Red's eyes widened, and her hand dropped minutely.

"You are a witch," Red said, voice filled with wonder as Molly carefully cast other simple spells to conjure up some birds (Ron mentally winced) petals, and a few more simple light shows.

"Yes," Molly said, quietly. "... are you?"

"My cloak is magic," Red admits, as she slowly sits back down, then carefully resumes eating - her enthusiasm picking back up when nobody protests - "Mother made it, grandmother enchated it. Father - he honed my axe and grandmother enchanted that, too," Red paused, considering. "Grandmother always said if I wanted to, she could teach me. But... It always seemed..." Red looked down, ashamed.

"Too dangerous to know?" Ron hedged. Red glanced at him.

"Yes." She said, quietly, looking down at her stew.

"It's not too dangerous here," Molly said. "How old are you?"

"Nearly nine," Red admitted. Ron figured, abruptly, that she was literally going to age 'as he does', as it said; so her birthday is likely the same as his, if not year-wise.

"There's a place," Molly said, "I'm sure they'll be happy to accept you; it's called Hogwarts."

Red's head snapped up. "There is - a place?" She asked, astonished.

"What year is it, Mag-" "Red," Red interrupted. "It's... it's Red."

"Red," Molly smiled, "What year is it?"

"868," Red said, promptly.

Ron blinked, owlishly, again.

"But what does that have to do with there being a place?"

"Everything," Molly promised, then turned to Ron. "Ron, dear, how did you meet Red?"

"In the woods," Ron admitted, wincing. "I just - went to have a look, on the outskirts, but she looked lost, so.."

Molly sighed. "Ronald Weasley," She snapped, then sighed. "Don't worry dear," She said, looking to Red. "You're not in any trouble," She added, to sooth the girl's sudden wariness. "There was a school built - not too long ago," his mother hesitated over the choice of words before barrelling on, "So... If you would like, we could go speak to the headmaster and get you set up for joining in two years?"

Red nodded, smiling happily. "Oh, please!"

Molly smiled. "Wonderful! Now - just in case, have you ever used the floo?"

* * *

Notes:

i take this long and then give you a somewhat-cliffhanger am I evil? no, because I'm terribly sorry for this course of action


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8: Preparations.

Summary:

Diagon Alley, and other forms of preparation.

Notes:

ummm wandlore is stupid it doesn't make an I'm sorry if I got stuff wrong but a) two woods are fine and b) two cores are fine so I hope these are okay and also, I kinda wanted to pay homage to all those old fics from back in the day that had like. THE most extravagant of wands, wow.

Chapter Text

Molly quickly explained how the floo worked and what it was used for to Red, then the three of them whisked off to Dumbledore's office.

Dumbledore. There was a man who, last Ron had known of him, was - dead. Completely. And had been so for a year-or-so, at the point of Ron's own death.

... And Ron was about to meet him a year before he did in his previous life. That's...

Okay. Things have been odd, no doubt about that. His family barely acted like themselves at first, and Red didn't exist until a Wild Event created her, so, therefore, didn't technically have any personality to speak of aside from the minor little bits of character she'd needed for that event. But - here's the kicker; the more time Red spent with Ron, the more Ron found she became less one-dimensional. Ron wasn't sure what the reason was for that, but he was glad, at least, that the game had by now come up with her background, because otherwise -

Well. This meeting would be a mess otherwise, honestly.

Molly explained everything to Professor Dumbledore.

"Well, of course, Miss MacGilhonylt may enrol," The old wizard nodded, as he steepled his hands together and twinkled his eyes at them.

"We have money," Red said, "Lunettes. Worth anything to you?"

Dumbledore's eye twinkle increased in intensity. "A good amount," He assured her, "But dear girl, given your situation, money shall not be an issue. The school has a few funds just in case of situations like yours, among many others - in a sense, the school will sponsor your tutelage."

"Huh." Red relaxed back into her seat. "Well, if that's what will work best."

"Assuredly," Dumbledore nodded. "You shall be joining the school with the rest of your year-mates in nineteen-ninety-two... alongside the young Miss Weasley, if I am not mistaken?"

Molly nodded. "I'll make sure you're caught up on the basics," She promised, addressing Red, "Nothing bad, just little things, like the use of a quill."

Ron knew for a fact that Red could only sort-of read. It tended to depend more on the quest or event she was called to help him with, but the girl tended to lean more towards illiterate. She could talk well, but she couldn't read well at all.

Ron glanced at Red, who seemed to know automatically what he'd been thinking. But then, that might be because the game thought she ought to know she leaned more towards illiterate than a capable reader.

"I also might need help reading, Ron's Mother," She said, quietly.

"Call me Molly," Molly said, softly. "And that's nothing to worry about, dear. You've got a couple years yet, to learn."

Red nodded, and settled back down into her seat.

"Well!" The Headmaster clapped his hands together and smiled at the three of them in turn. "We appear to have sorted everything out, now. Don't hesitate, Miss MacGilhonylt, to come and see me if you have any questions about where you've found yourself, and how magic differs here, versus where you came from."

Red nodded. Molly bid goodbye, as did Ron and Red. Red glanced at him, and Ron nodded.

"I'll be seeing you," She said, and then Red disappeared.

"What a wonderful display of magic!" Dumbledore exlaimed, eyes twinkling merrily. "Silent apparition within the walls of Hogwarts - why, Miss MacGilhonylt will most certainly feel at home here. On that note, we shall see you in September, Mr Weasley."

Molly nodded, bid goodbye. Ron did similarly, and his mother then bustled him from the office back home.

* * *

Ron brought up his character sheet as he pondered what to do at Diagon Alley, which was - literally now. His birthday was the day prior, and the meeting at Hogwarts with the Headmaster two days before that. Hermione would have gone to Diagon last year - poor her, having a September birthday; thus a whole year before she can study magic - Harry would have gone at the end of July, and Ron didn't really know when anyone else would have been shopping, at least not during the rush to get supplies for the first year.

Anyway. Ron was Level 4, 8s across the board, with an equal two-hundred-and-sixty hp and mp. Actually - Ron had forgotten; he'd gained one Wiz and one Int from that POA regarding Lck, so he had nine in those... but still 8s in the rest.

As for skills, he'd levelled up some since he'd last looked.

Flying, Brawling, and Wandless Magic were all connected to Gravity Punch, so using that ability levelled those, which in turn made Gravity Punch better. And levelling Wandless Magic had the happy side effect of making Flying with the use of fucking wingardium leviosa much easier, though it was still fucking wingardium leviosa, so it was more 'launching yourself up into the air and hoping for the best' than actually flying. But still. Anyway, it also had another happy side effect in the form of making Controllable Accidental Magic easier, though much to Ron's consternation, that itself couldn't be levelled, technically, within game mechanics, just - gotten better at naturally, so; the more use, the less it goes wrong.

He'd also played enough random rounds of chaser-vs-keeper with Ginny that he'd levelled his broom flying skill some, which was nice. Knowledge Inhaling had been levelled too, from using the lessons his dad gave about Muggle Studies in the form of random books. Ron, despite the guarentee of always winning, had also played a lot of chess, so his strategy skill had gone up as well - though, not much, because comparatively, his 10/10 chess skill made the rest of his family's skills kind of...

Pale, in comparison. It was a bit weird that the game had given him that particular advantage, but. Well, at least he's got something.

You see, Ron is level four. But, given his age, he should be level eleven. That's the problem; NPCs level as they age, gaining skills and abilities and traits et cetera, et cetera, but Player Characters have to do all that shit manually.

It's bloody annoying, that reaching the milestone of a birthday doesn't give any xp, but. Fine. Ron will just have to grind.

Fun.

Ron sighed, and closed the menu. The green flames died down from Fred going through the floo, and Ron followed after.

* * *

Molly bustled Ron and the other four Weasley kids she'd brought along to Diagon Alley - Hogwarts-age and Ginny - as she went about getting everything. Percy, as Ron remembered, got all new robes and an owl.

Ron swung the cage Scabbers was in perhaps a little maliciously fast as they walked. He'd have to do something about that rat sometime soon. As it stood... Ron can't take him in a fight, yet, and if he doesn't do anything suspicious, he's got two years to prepare a plan, at most. That's - fine, if not great. He can make one in much less time than that.

Ron turned over Charlie's wand in his hand. He needed a new one, stat, and he had the money for it, but there was that little problem of Lockheart.

He needs this wand to break to put Lockheart in possession of a wand that will - inevitably - backfire, and so the man in question will get hit by his own obliviate.

But. Ron doesn't want - the rest of his siblings have their own wands. He knew that money had been tighter that year, which is why they'd gotten him a new wand in his third, after he broke Charlie's in his second, and he knew, alright, he knew that if he'd written home about it not working well for him (ash wands, by the way, were the kind of wands you didn't pass on to someone else, but, there he was with his older brother's, so, what did Ron know) they would have found a way to get him one that did, but.

It doesn't really matter. Ron could afford his own, now - but he wouldn't get one from Ollivander's until Third year, anyway. Just in case that ends up meaning he'd get a different one; for all Ron knew, the wand he'd ended up with had been made only a few weeks prior.

No, best be on the safe side.

But. This Diagon Alley was different from the one he remembered, Ron could tell. As the red-headed group walked around, Ron could see streets that had never existed, shops he'd never seen, and the roofs of buildings he didn't recognise. Everything was much more tightly packed in together, and much more hodge-podge... in a way, Diagon kind of reminded him of the Burrow, which - was decidedly not what it had looked like in his last life. People like Malfoy would not have shopped here if it looked like this, the bastards.

But like he'd said - there were other streets. Griffin Alley, which appeared to be a joiner between Knockturn and Diagon - Salamander Street, Hippogriff Way, Pottlum Walk...

What the fuck?

... The last we knew of Harry Potter Fandom, was early 2000s, some late 90s bullshit too. We didn't have Pottermore before we left, and, quite frankly, if JK thinks Cursed Child makes any fucking sense, I'm glad we rolled out of there.

Ron shook his head and dismissed the baffling notifi-scroll.

Well... whatever that was about, it did confirm that the Game's creators had changed things.

Bastard...s. Are there more than one?

Ron thought for a moment. There had been, but then it changed to refer to one, then multiple, then one, then multiple, and on and on...

Odd. Ron shook his head again and unpaused the game, then hurried to catch up with his family.

After shopping for general supplies, the sort of which that couldn't just be handed down, sibling-to-sibling style, the Weasleys gathered back in the Leaky Cauldron.

The rest of his siblings went through the floo. Molly gestured for him to stay put, so he did, and the two waited for Ginny to vanish in the flames.

Ron eyed Tom, the bartender, who was repeatedly cleaning the same spot on the bar with the exact same motions.

So, yeah. He'd been right; proximity.

look, if you were Harry Potter, you wouldn't have had to see this mess. 'Sorry'.

Ron scowled at the scroll and waved it away impatiently. Now was not the time.

His mother, Ron could tell, was now in full 'tutorial helper' mode.

"You can visit Diagon whenever you like," She recited. "Spend the money you earn or... find. Check the documentation if you want to learn about buying and selling, or if you want to set it all to realistic, just go to the menu. Caution: In realistic, there is no one person you can rely on for fencing stolen goods."

Ron grimaced. His mother smiled at him, having said her part.

"As a little birthday present," Molly said, "And given how good you've been helping Red like that, Ronnie, you can go have a look around Diagon, just promise me one thing; don't go into Knockturn, no matter what, is that understood?"

Ron nodded. his mother smiled warmly, then gave him a hug. After that, she walked over to the floo, called out for home, and disappeared into the flames.

Ron turned to the entrance to Diagon, tapped on the bricks with Charlie's wand, then stood there for a moment, before deciding to do a quick search, and look around whatever wand shop he found.

* * *

"Whitechapel Wands and Wares," Ron read aloud, frowning at the store in front of him. He was on Griffin Alley, the second street he'd looked down (not including Diagon, which as expected only had Ollivanders), and staring up at a two-storey building, the shorefront of which looked - at least a little old, or perhaps badly painted; the blue peeling off in places.

Ron shrugged, and wandered inside. A bell rang out - a real bell, one hung above the door, not just a charm set to let the proprietor know someone had entered - and a man jumped up from his place behind the counter - more a desk, really, and one with... a whole heap of wand-related stuff on it.

Did he make wands right here, in the front of the store? Was the place even warded?

Ron looked around warily. There was a single set of shelves along half of one wall with various gizmos and odds-and-ends on it, but the rest of the store was jam-packed with wand-related paraphernalia, including raw woods and cores, just in case you wanted to make your own, Ron guessed.

Given everyone seemed to buy their wands from Ollivander's, well, this came as no suprise to Ron. The man probably was just trying to sell anything and everything he could just to get by.

Including a wand made of cherry and erumpent horn, which Ron was staying clear of.

"A customer!" The man exclaimed, momentarily surprised. He shoved the goggles up onto his forehead, which didn't do anything to push his hair back mostly entirely because it was already somewhat slicked back, due to the sheer amount of grease. His skin was weathered, ruddy, but his hands, which were fiddling with what looked like an attempt to combine a doxy and a fairy wing (what the fuck) for a wand core, were neither of those - pale and well-looked after, probably because he had to deal with both delicate and dangerous materials on a daily basis.

The man frowned at Ron, squinting. "First year, I see. Well, no First year should be without a wand, and - a little quirk of mine, but I never thought they should be without at least two! After all, little kiddos aren't exactly known for not breaking things," He said, moving to gather up various woods and cores as he eyed Ron critically. He'd dropped the doxy wing and the fairy wing rather carelessly on the table, right into a tiny little puddle of boomslang venom, in which they dissolved.

Doxy wings and Fairy wings are very delicate. Ron stared.

"Oops," The man muttered, glancing back. "... Wonder if that'll have gained some of the properties of both? Now that's an idea..."

He returned to gathering up materials. When he found he had nowhere to put them, the man rolled his eyes and - carefully - deposited them on the floor. He quickly transfigured a table from the remains of some broken wands he'd dropped into a bucket, and then moved all the materials onto it.

"Alright." The man looked at him, assessing. "Wand length - between 12 and 14", flexibility..." The man pushed down his goggles, "hmm, sturdy, I'd say," He pushed them back up. "Core - ooh. Pheonix Feather or Unicorn Hair... potentially both, never done that combination before, hadn't had the chance - and it looks like - quite a few potential woods," The man nodded, and started separating what he needed from what he didn't in the pile. "Willow; ugh, Cedar; far more interesting, Ash; nice, Cypress, English Oak, Holly, Larch - all very intruiging, I'd say." The man straightened up then carelessly vanished what he didn't need. "Ugh. Fuck, I'm going to have to buy those again. Well, nevermind."

The man nodded. "Well, sit," He gestured. "Oh, wait; wand hand. Which?"

"Right," Ron said.

"Great, okay, sit," He gestured again. There was a chair that didn't look too unstable, so Ron sat.

The man got to work making various wands - a few failed spectacularly, but nothing thankfully blew up the shop.

"Done!" He announced, about a real-world three hours later, though the game didn't have a clock and the world didn't look any different outside.

After all, Ron was only timed during quests. It was... odd, to say the least.

"Here," The man gestured for Ron to stand in front of the desk. "Pick 'em up and give 'em a flick, go on."

Ron did so. The first one he picked up, "Willow & Cedar, Phoenix Feather, 12", sturdy" The man informed him, made three blocks of wood vanish.

"Definitely not," The man grimaced, "Don't worry, I won't make you pay for that. Next."

"Holly & Larch, Unicorn Hair, 12 ½", sturdy - oh, Merlin no! Put it down, don't even try that one, what was I thinking-"

"Plain Willow, unicorn hair, 13", sturdy." A jar flung itself at the man, who caught it. "Well, that's not right. Next."

A few more varying combinations, none of which worked. Then:

"Ash & Larch, Unicorn Hair & Pheonix Feather, not badly done if I do say so myself - 14", sturdy."

Ron flicked the wand. Red and gold sparks flew from the tip, and the man grinned delightedly - though there was a slightly unnerving hint of mania behind it. "Brilliant! I know which your second wand should be then - here, try this one." The man pointed to a wand third in from the right in the line of wands Ron was supposed to be trying.

"Cypress & English Oak, Unicorn Hair & Phoenix Feather, 14", sturdy," The man said, happily. Ron flicked the wand, which spewed out some golden sparks for a few moments.

"Perfect." The man grinned. "Well. I would hope so, anyway. Do come to see me if those cores don't get along, yes?" The man nodded. "Anyway! It should be fine. I'm very good at combination wands. Still, never can be too careful! And as those are first attempts at those combinations, I'll knock off a couple galleons, which takes you down to a measly twelve."

Ron, thankfully, had enough with some left over at that price. He paid, pocketed his wands - which, helpful, they could take up one slot because they were both wands which meant wands could stack which was very useful information - and left the shop.

So. Three wands, just in case he broke two of them. And he planned on breaking Charlie's, so. Two wands, really, but - still.

Ron shrugged. There wasn't really much else to do here, now, other than to check the place for any Wild Areas - which he doubted - and any dungeons.

* * *

Ron could not access Knockturn yet - the game physically would not allow him to enter. Honestly, he hadn't actually wanted to anyway, so it wasn't much of a problem, but it was good to know that'd be locked until Harry got lost in the floo.

Anyway. There were no wild areas, as he'd expected, and there were no dungeons, as he'd expected. Thusly - Ron just went back to the Burrow.

Once home, Ron did the usual. Exploring the Dungeon, the Wild Area, asking his dad about Muggle stuff, eating dinner, going out to the field and practicing with Ginny, returning back to the wild area, going to bed, rinse, repeat. It was many, many more weeks of this than he should have had because he was avoiding his mother every time he saw her because talking to her would just advance the tutorial to Kings Cross, which is pretty much when the Story starts - and Ron, above all else, wanted to be ready. At least on par with his classmates, if not better.

And, also, he wanted to buy away both Goody Gryffindors and Hufflepuff? Schmufflepuff. because they were just... somewhat frustrating traits.

So. Ron did just that.

* * *

Ron nodded and closed his character sheet. So. Level 11.

It was time, he knew. To go to Kings Cross. He was at the same level as his classmates, his skills were a lot better, his stats were no longer sub-par, and he'd gotten rid of both the traits he'd wanted gone. But.

Ron thought about how the bartender of the Leaky Cauldron had acted.

Were Harry and Hermione going to be like that too?

Ron grimaced at the possibility. He'd barely dealt with it when it came to his family, barely, and he would probably be able to do the same with his friends, but... Merlin. He didn't want to.

But he had to. Ron steeled his nerves, closed the menu and approached his mother.

"I want to advance the tutorial," Ron said.

"Of course, dear," His mother smiled. "We best be off, then!"

* * *

 _FFN Notes: There is a picture in this chapter, which is visible on the AO3 variant._


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9: The Trip To Hogwarts.

Summary:

The train.

Some new (... old) faces.

FFN Notes:

Most recent chapter. I might add the other story in this series over on AO3 as an 'interlude' between Year One and Year Two to this fic once I have finished year one.

* * *

Once again, everything feels like a cutscene. Ron is thrown unceremoneously out of his body, now a third-person observer to the events after a fade-to-black-then-back-again.

He watches as his family rush around to gather up their things and finish getting ready mere minutes before they need to be setting off, and Ron knows they'll be just late enough to get there on time to meet Harry.

Harry. Merlin, but Ron's not ready for that. What if - What if Harry's... not like _Harry_?

Harry Potter is the Main Character you absolute buffoon. You're the Player Character, but he's still the Hero of this prophecy.

Ron scowled at the reminder of the blasted prophecy that had cost so many lives, nearly including his own dad's and including Sirius, then waved away the notifi-scroll and resumed the cutscene.

The bustling family of seven (technically six, since Ginny wasn't packing and had already finished getting ready - at that moment, she was happily sitting on the couch, gloating about not having to rush about like the rest of them even though she knows fully well that she'll be doing the same next year and the years after that) continued to hurry around the house, yelling back and forth about missing books and where that sock went and did you steal my shirt again and all the rest of the general 'I can't finds' and 'I swear you had it last's - 'no, you had it last's - 'no you's typical to this harried situation.

Ron watched, fondly, as his family acted like themselves... more so than they did during 'gameplay'.

The family of seven made their way out of the house, into the car. The drive was done in montage, and then Ron was unceremoneously thrown back into his body as it exited the car.

Ron blinked, as he re-adjusted to having a physical form.

"Hurry up Ron dear!" His mother called out. "And don't forget Scabbers!"

Ron grabbed all his things and shoved them onto his trolley, as his siblings did the same for their own stuff. The group hurried their way through King's Cross, such a large crowd of redheads with minor notice-me-nots and muggle-repellent charms on them that the crowds parted easily to make way.

Ron spotted Harry first, this time, probably because he'd been looking for him. But Harry had approached them last time - yet.

Ron... he was already changing things.

"Mum look," Ron said, gesturing to Harry, who blinked rapidly, having realised he'd been noticed. Harry hadn't exactly been discrete with the watching of them - but, Ron supposed, they weren't exactly a missable lot, dismissing the notice-me-not and muggle repellant charms.

"He's got an owl and a trunk. Think he's muggleborn?"

"Where are his parents?" Molly muttered worriedly, then carefully walked over to Harry. "You look lost dear," She said, kindly. "What platform are you looking for?"

"Nine and Three-Quaters," Harry said, awkwardly.

"Then you're for Hogwarts too! Wonderful. First year, I imagine?" She smiled at Harry warmly, then gestured to the rest of her family. Ron offered and awkward wave and that grimace-smile you gave to people you didn't really know - the one he knew he'd given Harry the first time around.

Minus the awkward wave. But the more he changes the less he has to worry, right? About keeping things on track, so to speak. And while he needs to keep big events the same, surely just some slightly better actions on his part when it came to his friends isn't going to make that big a difference, right?

Fuck, Ron felt very aware he was tempting fate, but. Fuck. He couldn't - he couldn't just do this all over again exactly the same. He didn't want to. He didn't want to let Harry down like he'd done, let Hermione down. He didn't want to - he just wanted to be a good friend.

That's not a bad want, really.

"You'll be in the same year as Ron, dear." Molly pointed at Ron. "And this is Percy -" She gestured to Percy, "My Husband Arthur, my daughter Ginny, and Fred and George."

"I'm Harry." Harry said.

"It's nice to meet you," Ginny said, brightly. Oh, it's going to be fun hearing her wax poetically about the book-Harry she'd read about for years again over the next summer, Ron can't wait. He'd actually forgotten, in all honesty, her rather embarrasing hero-worship crush on his best mate, and - eugh. Ron didn't really want to think about them together, as much as he supported and was happy for them both... in the future-past.

It was just something you don't think about. Your best friend and your sister. Ron mentally grimaced, and forcefully moved on.

"Mother, the time?" Percy said, agitated.

"Oh! Of course. Did the teacher sent to tell you about Hogwarts tell you how to get onto the platform, dear?" Molly asked.

Merlin, but she's good. There's no way she doesn't know he's Harry Potter - she knew the order members from the last war, Ron was pretty sure. She'd at least seen photos, and there was no mistaking James Potter's son for anyone other than that, and there was also no mistaking those eyes for anything other than Lily Evans'. And while Harry got the habit of flattening down his fringe to hide his scar during Hogwarts, thanks to all the stares - he didn't have that yet, and you could just about see it poking through.

"Uh - no." Harry said, haltingly. But blimey, he'd been shy. Ron hadn't really realised that back then.

He hadn't realised a lot, but then - Ron is also pretty sure he'd tried to do more about what he had realised than most people Harry knew. Like when the Dursleys had locked him up summer before second year.

Still.

"Well, it's very easy. Percy, if you would?" Arthur asked his son. Percy nodded, sharply, and turned, his prefect badge catching the light for a second. Merlin, but he was a pompus prat. Still - Ron wasn't sure what he was going to do, with the knowledge that Percy would inevitably leave them for the ministry... but return all the same, yet, a little too last-minute.

He'd think about it.

Fred and George went next, with their usual 'wrong twin - no, whoops, right twin' gag, and then it was Ron's turn. Ron went through, pushed his trolly out of the way but stood nearby. As he waited, he saw a few friendly faces - Neville, with his toad and his overpowering Grandmother, Dean Thomas and his family - there was Seamus, there was Cho Chang, there was -

Cedric Diggory. Ron winced and looked away, but then he kept spotting them. Kids he'd seen die during the battle, or kids he'd heard died. During the Horcrux Hunt that accomplished very little in the long run, aside from fracturing their group, and while he... had abandoned them.

No. That - that had been, for the most part, the horcrux's fault. Not Ron's, not entirely.

Ron took a breath. He could see people who'd ended up on the other side, too. But before he could linger too long on that, Harry was through.

"You made it then," Ron said, and Harry jumped lightly, having been caught up in awe and wonder at the station laid out before him.

"... I did," Harry said, guardedly. "Hey, sometimes this stuff doesn't work properly," Ron said. "I heard someone got stuck, once or twice - though since my brothers told me that," He frowned lightly, "'S likely I shouldn't belive it."

Well. A previous version of himself had experienced being stuck on the other side of the entrance, but. He couldn't exactly tell Harry that.

"Magic can be - faulty?" Harry asked.

"Oh yeah," Ron said. "But not that often. Usually only when it's meddled with. Or, I guess, if the person who did the magic was shit at it. Come on, the cabins get full really quickly."

Ron started for the train. Harry followed cautiously, but closely beside him, as they made their way through the crowd.

"Are you a muggle born then?" Ron asked. "Uh - as in, were your parents magic?"

Ron mentally winced. Are, he should have said are - he's not supposed to know they're dead yet -

"Yeah," Harry said, barely audible above the buzz of the station. "Lily and James. I - I was raised by my Aunt and Uncle," Harry shrugged. "Turns out they knew... never did tell me, though."

"Fucking rude," Ron said, because it was. "Wait - Lily and James?" He asked, as if just catching that.

"Yeah," Harry glanced at him. "Lily and James Potter."

"No way." Ron halted, pretending for surprise. He remembered how he'd reacted last time - literally gaped at the other boy in shock - so he mimiced that, but did tone it down a bit. "You're Harry Potter, aren't you?"

Harry looked at him, warily. "That's my name," He confirmed.

"Bloody hell," Ron said. "Sorry. I mean - sorry about bringing up your parents." Ron hesitated. Luckily, he was saved from making an idiot out of himself with the appearance of Fred and George.

"Is Ronnie and his new friend having a little trouble getting their trunks on the train?" Fred teased.

"It sure looks like it, Forge," George said, glancing between the two. "Need any help there, Harry?"

Harry was, indeed, struggling to lift his trunk. "Uh-" Harry hesitated, but shrugged lightly. "Yeah, that'd be great, thanks."

"Right o'," George grinned, and lifted it onto the train. Fred lackadaisically helped Ron with his, then the four of them were on the train. Harry grabbed his trunk and awkwardly thanked Ron's brothers, who Ron grunted at in his own thanks.

"Very articulate, this one," Fred told Harry, conspiratorily. "Shove off," Ron said. "Doesn't Lee have a spider you need to go see?"

"Well, I see where we're not wanted," George sniffed, then grinned at them. "And indeed he does, Ronniekins," - Ron winced, mentally, but managed to keep a straight face - "But I think you two firsties are going -" "- to need our help -" "-lifting those trunks-" "-onto the storage shelves in the compartment you choose." Fred finished.

Harry blinked. Ron rolled his eyes. "Fine," He said. He glanced at Harry, who looked a little lost. "The compartments near the back are usually empty," Ron told him, fully aware the twins wouldn't find that knowledge in any way strange because Ron had five older brothers from whom he could have heard it - "So we should probably check there."

"Right," Harry straightened up. "Okay." He said, then turned around and started dragging his trunk in the direction of the back of the train. "Mum'll want to see us after you've got all set up," Fred reminded Ron, "Which is when we'll be going to see Lee's tarantula, by the way," George added, "After saying our tearful goodbyes," Fred continued. "And promising to send something to Ginny." George finished.

Ron just nodded, as the three of them followed Harry towards the back of the train. They found a compartment, empty, and Fred and George helped Harry put his trunk on the shelf.

This is when Harry brushed his fringe out of his eyes.

"Blimey!" Fred said, loudly. George looked on, gobsmaked. "Who'd you say you were again?" Fred said. "Harry. Harry Potter," George said, still shocked.

"Are you really?" Fred blinked at Harry.

"I think I know my own name, yes," Harry said, dryly.

"You know, people get that mixed up all the time," George said, "For example, I'm Fred."

"No you're not," Ron said, rolling his eyes. He glanced out the window, and spotted his mum beckoning them. "Mum's calling us," He gestured, as he turned to his brothers.

"Wait." Fred accused. "You knew."

"Well, yeah." Ron said. "Told me, didn' he?" Ron glanced at Harry, who shrugged lightly.

"Kind of." Harry... confirmed?

"Well, either way, dear mother is waiting for us," George said, "So we should skedadle right quick," Fred agreed, "Come along, brother o' ours," George gestured grandly. Ron grunted. "See you later," Ron said to Harry, then followed his brothers out to where Percy, Ginny and their parents were already gathered.

It went pretty much the same as last time, except Ron didn't appear to have any dirt on his nose this go around - thankfully - and then, almost before he knew it, Ron was back in the compartment with Harry.

Ron had happened to glance at the train this time, and had noticed Harry looking at them all - the gathered Weasleys - with a peculiar expression. He'd looked away, of course, before Ron could tell what it was.

"You have a big family," Harry said. "What's it like, having three older brothers, and a little sister?"

"Five," Ron corrected. He didn't feel the gloom as much as he had at eleven regarding what he had to live up to - but, in the back of his mind, it was still there. Still present. It wasn't hard to conjour up again, in part because he was eleven again, and in part because the Locket had brought an understanding of that mood, that mindset of gloom, at least somewhat.

(That feeling, he knew, of insecurity.)

"I have five older brothers," Ron remembered, suddenly, the little speech he'd made as if it was yesterday, and he said it - word for word. "I'm the sixth in our family to go to Hogwarts. You could say I've got a lot to live up to. Bill and Charlie have already left - Bill was head boy and Charlie was captain of Quidditch. Now Percy's a prefect. Fred and George mess around a lot, but they still get really good marks and everyone thinks they're really funny. Everyone expects me to do as well as the others, but if I do, it's no big deal, because they did it first. You never get anything new, either, with five brothers. I've got Bill's old robes, Charlie's old wand, and Percy's old rat."

Ron pointed to Scabbers, who was in his cage on the bench, as far from Ron as possible. "He's useless, hardly every wakes up. Percy got a new owl for becoming prefect - new robes, too. I got scabbers, since we couldn't aff- I mean, you can't exactly throw away a pet."

Ron fiddled with the wand he was holding. It was Charlie's - he knew he'd have to keep mum about his other wands, because then people would start wondering where he got the money from, and he wasn't really able to answer that. 'I got it from looting in the dungeon in my attic' doesn't really work as a reason if other people don't know that this life is a game, after all. It just sounds like a suspicious excuse.

Much like last time, Harry tried to empathise - this time, it didn't really work on Ron's end, because all Ron felt was anger at the Dursleys. Sympathy, of course, for his best friend-slash-new aquaintance's lot in life, obviously, and empathy about only ever having second hand things so far in life - but... it was just - Ron's family couldn't afford new stuff. Harry's could, they just chose not to spend it on Harry. And only Harry.

And that made Ron's blood boil. But he couldn't really let that show, because he was eleven, and the idea of abuse hadn't really settled in until he'd heard more anecdotes about the Dursleys - last time, he really had just thought they were poor. Like Ron's family.

They were nothing like Ron's family. For one, the Weasleys were a family. The Dursleys were relatives, and shitty ones at that.

"... and until Hagrid told me, I didn't know anything about being a wizard or about my parents or Voldemort," Harry finished.

Ron was used to Harry saying Voldemort by now - but that didn't stop his flinch. After all, it hadn't, really, been that long since the name had been Taboo, and to say it had been suicide, practically.

"What?" Harry asked, having noticed Ron's flinch.

"Just - you said You-Know-Who's name," Ron said, and he wasn't not impressed, this time, because he'd always been a bit impressed about Harry's bravery in the face of all the shit just thrown at him constantly - but... more nervous. More - wary, than he'd been at eleven. "That's - I mean, he's gone, now, but that's not... it's not safe," Ron said, lamely.

"Not safe?" Harry echoed. "See what I mean?" He continued, agitated, "I just - I never knew you shouldn't, and I bet I've got loads to learn - I bet..." He hesitated, then continued, more firmly, "I bet I'm the worst in class."

"You won't be." Ron said, the same as he had last time. "There's loads of people who come from Muggle families and they learn quick enough." Ron hesitated. "... From what I know," He said, "Your mum was muggle-born. Muggle raised. She probably felt the same way too, and she did well, from the stories I've heard."

"Stories?" Harry asked.

"Yeah," Ron said. "... It was a war, y'know? War time stories. Battles." Ron hesitated. "Glory. Tragedy."

"Death." Harry finished.

"Hope," Ron countered. "We won, you know. Your parents - they saved... everyone that was still left to be saved."

"... You don't think I did it?" Harry asked.

Ron used to. But it is, honestly, pretty fucking stupid to think a little baby could defeat a Dark Lord. It makes way more sense for James and Lily or just one of them to have done something, whatever it was, that made the spell backfire onto He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

"How could a baby have done anything, really?" Ron asked rhetorically, then shrugged. "There's going to be a lot of people that do, though," Ron added, in warning. "There's books, y'know. About you. Fact and Fiction."

Ron's ears burned lightly. "... My little sister reads them."

Harry winced. "Oh." Harry said, faintly. "Well then."

They were quiet for a time, watching the fields and lanes flick past.

Around half past twelve there was a great clattering outside in the corridor and a smiling, dimpled woman slid back their door and said, "Anything off the cart, dears?"

Harry lept to his feet, and went immediately over to the trolley to buy sweets. Ron left him to it, and surfaced his corned beef sandwitches from the depths of his inventory.

Four pockets. One for money, one for his wands, one for whatever, and one for whatever. Very useful, really.

"Corned beef," Ron sighed, mournfully. "Mum always forgets I don't like Corned beef..."

He glanced over at Harry, who had, like last time, bought something of everything off of the trolley.

"Hungry, are you?" Ron asked, lightly. He knew, from experience as Harry's friend, that the Dursleys had likely not fed him that day.

"Starving," Harry said, as he took a large bite out of a pumpkin pastry. "Want some?" He offered, grabbing another and holding it out to Ron. "Trade you for the sandwhiches. Go on," Harry encouraged. Ron hesitated, but he nodded, then swapped the sandwhiches out for the pastry - the former of which ended up forgotten on the bench as the two dug into the sweets and pastries Harry had bought.

It continued the way it had last time all the way through Neville's appearance - except. "Wait," Ron said, "Hold on - Neville, why don't you ask a prefect to summon it - er, him, or something?"

Neville's eyes lit up. "Right, of course!" Then they dimmed again. "But - But I don't know where they are..." He said, miserable again.

"Well, they'll be patrolling now," Ron said, reasonably, "So you're bound to come across one. Their compartment is at the beginning of the train, it's got a sign on it and everything. Can't miss it. I'm sure you'll find some help."

"Thanks, Ron," Neville said, grateful, then left, closing the compartment door behind himself.

"Toads are pretty useless," Ron said, "Known for running - or, hopping, I guess - off. Which, I mean, at least all Scabbers does is sleep, I'd hate to have to go chasing him around the castle..."

Ron paused. He wasn't sure if it'd work, but he knew the real colour-changing charm, now. And... well... a yellow Pettigrew would at least be amusing.

Eh. Why not try? No more embarrasing than last time if it doesn't work, and it's not like the failure last time did him any harm, friendship-wise.

"Problem with Scabbers is he might have died, you wouldn't know the difference," Ron said, with vehement disgust. "One of my brothers taught me a spell to change the colour of something, which would at least make him a little more interesting... haven't tried it yet, though - hold on, I'll show you..."

Ron retrieved Charlie's wand from his pocket (well, his inventory, but it'd be a bit suspicious if it just appeared in his hand, so - pocket as cover) then cast the spell on Scabbers. Predictibly, as Scabbers was an animagus, the spell didn't do anything to him. Not so predictibly, it changed his cage yellow... so it was likely it hadn't worked because Ron had simply just missed.

"... Well," Ron said, "I mean, the spell kind of worked."

"It turned the cage yellow," Harry said, "Which is pretty cool."

Ron was about to respond when the cabin door opened again - Neville was back, with his Toad this time, and Hermione was standing there beside him.

"Neville wanted to thank you for the advice," She said. "Y-Yeah," Neville nodded, clutching Trevor closer to him when he spotted Hedwig, even though she was safely locked in her cage. "Thanks."

"Are you doing magic?" Hermione asked, abruptly, staring intently at Charlie's wand that Ron was still holding. "Let's see it, then," She said, imperiously.

Fuck. He'd forgotten how bossy she'd been at eleven. How annoying. Merlin, he'd missed her. But not this her, as - mean as that may sound. The her he'd known; the girl who'd been through all those seven years of bullshit with him, as his friend - as someone he'd cared deeply for.

But this Hermione - she wasn't her yet. Like Harry wasn't himself yet, and Neville was just... sad to see. Like how awful it was to spot Cedric, happy and alive, and Cho, not crying at all, not even a little.

And, Ron thought, none of them would ever be exactly the same as the people he remembered. He'd already changed very little things - their respective meetings, but... something Hermione said once, after that whole time-travel debacle in their third year which Ron hadn't really been a part of.

Small things can make big changes. Like, If I hadn't thrown the rock far enough to hit Harry, and it just dropped before reaching Hagrid's Hut. What would have happened then?

"He's already done it," Harry said, shortly. Oh, but Ron had forgotten how much Hermione had grated on Harry's patience, back then. Harry pointed at the yellow cage.

"Oh." She said, and deflated a little. "A colour changing charm?"

"Yeah," Ron said. "One of my older brothers taught me it."

Her eyes lit up. "So you're from a wizarding family then?" She asked, with great interest. Hermione pushed the sweets and pastries they hadn't eaten yet aside so she could sit down, then rolled her eyes and pointed at the free space for Neville to sit on she'd cleared for him too.

Harry and Ron shared a glanced. Ron shrugged, then looked back at Hermione. "Yeah," He said.

"What was it like, growing up with magic?" She asked, leaning forwards in her seat.

"Uh - well, like growing up without it, I guess." He said. "Normal to me. Like, uh, a Floo Call makes sense to me but I don't really know how a - a... Telephone... works?" He offered. He knew the name now, at least.

Hermione cocked her head to the side, thinking. "I suppose it makes sense you won't be able to explain it," She concluded. "Magic must be so - I don't know. Mundane to you, musn't it? Well, for me, it's the complete opposite - I even got permission to try a few simple spells at home, since I'd have the whole year of knowing about magic but not being able to do it otherwise and I'd have gone spare - any way, I've tried a few simple spells just for practice and it's all worked for me. Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard - I've learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough - I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?"

"Ron Weasley," Ron said, used to the way Hermione had spoken at that age. Harry, who was most decidedly not, looked a litttle taken aback.

"Harry Potter." Harry said. Neville gasped, and Hermione's eyes widened in excitement. No wonder - she'd read about him in a book, after all, Ron thought, wryly.

"Are you really?" said Hermione. "I know all about you, of course - I got a few extra books. for background reading, and you're in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century."

"Am I?" Harry looked dazed. "It's all a bit much, really," Ron interrupted, before Hermione could make Harry feel worse. "And most of its rubbish. I mean, I doubt Harry's been fighting Dragons on the weekly - have you?" Ron grinned slightly at Harry, who snorted. "Uh, no, no Dragons," He confirmed.

"Well, that's just fiction," Hermione said, dismissive.

"Oi," Ron said, "What's wrong with fiction?" Ron liked a good comic book, and his mum had used the few books he'd liked listening to as a kid to teach him morals and shit, from the stories they told. You could learn a lot from a fiction book, Ron had found. He tended to actually not mind reading shorter ones and comics when compared to his utter hatred of all things boring and textbook-shaped.

"Oh... nothing, I suppose," Hermione said, then sniffed. "It's all just very... unrealistic. There's generally very little fact in it."

"I'd say there's some fact to magic," Harry said, wryly. "I mean, the ins and outs were wrong, but I'd say Tolkien was onto something, right?"

"I never read it," Hermione said, shortly, then stood. She paused before she left, then sat down again. "Do either of you know what house you'll be in?" SHe asked, and there wasn't a long enough pause for anyone to answer, but Neville had muttered 'probably Huffflepuff...' Under his breath in a resigned manner anyway. "I've been asking around and I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best; I hear Dumbledore himself was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad... Anyway, we'd better go - You two had better change, you know, I expect we'll be there soon."

"Neville?" Ron asked, and he turned back around. Hermione had already flounced off - she'd wait for him once she noticed Neville wasn't walking with her, Ron knew. "Hufflepuff's not a bad house," Ron said. "Loads of cool people went there. Even if you were one, why would that be a problem?"

Neville hesitated. "My Gran..." He mumbled... "She - She wouldn't be - happy," He stuttered.

"Family..." Harry muttered, and shook his head.

"Yeah," Neville said, quietly - and then was gone.

"What house do you think you'll be in?" Harry asked Ron, after a breif pause, when the two of them resumed making their way through the food.

"Gryffindor," Ron said, remembering to inject a little gloom into the word. "Mom and Dad were in it, too. I don't know what they'll say if I'm not. I don't suppose Ravenclaw would be too bad, but imagine if they put me in Slytherin."

Ron shuddered. Bunking with Malfoy. Eugh.

(He doesn't hate slytherins, he hates Slytherins. Blood Purist, elitist prats that think they own the world. People like Pansy Parkinson, who would sell out a friend for a quick quid, or a promotion, or just - whatever they fancy at that moment.)

"That's the house... that's the house You-Know-Who went to, wasn't it?"

"The one and only," Ron confirmed. "I mean...'S not a bad house, I guess.. ambition, cunning, y'know, all that, but - there's a lot of bad people in it and who were in it. It's - got a bad rep. People in there go bad, people say... so they do what's expected, I guess."

Tradition. Do what's expected. That's practically part of the pureblood ideology. Just look at Malfoy and his ilk.

"I'm already hated enough," Harry said, simply. "Back in Surrey. I think I'd rather go somewhere else."

"Mos' people would, I'd wager," Ron agreed, and leaned back on the bench. He tossed Scabbers and the rat's cage onto the other bench - but he used his oft and well-practiced silent wingardium leviosa to make sure the rat wasn't hurt. It wouldn't do for Pettigrew to get sick and tired of Ron's treatment of him and run off two years too early, after all.

The rat, predictably, didn't wake while being thrown, and nor did he wake upon landing.

Fucking lazy bastard.

Ron sighed, and looked up.

"So what do your oldest brothers do, now that they've left, anyway?" Harry asked, much like he had last time. A different prompt for such, Ron thought, but... what if the changes he makes don't matter? What if, no matter the journey taken, the end is the same?

With Ron dead, and starting over again?

Ron was glad of the distraction, much like last time.

"Charlie's in Romania studying dragons, and Bill's in Africa doing something for Gringotts," Ron echoed his past words. "Did you hear about Gringotts? It's been all over the Daily Prophet, but I don't suppose you get that with the Muggles - someone tried to rob a high security vault."

"No, I didn't," Harry stared at him.

"Happened on the 31st - July," Ron extrapolated. "It's such big news because it never happens; the Goblins' security is next to none."

"I was there that day! Harry exlaimed. "What happened to the robber?" He asked.

"Were you now? " Ron asked, rhetorically. "It's lucky you weren't there at the same time then. And - nothing, that's also part of why it's such big news. They haven't been caught. My dad says it must've been a powerful Dark wizard to get round Gringotts, but they don't think they took anything, that's what's odd. 'Course, everyone gets scared when something like this happens in case You-Know-Who's behind it."

"Y'know," Harry said, after pondering for a moment. Ron hadn't interrupted him this time, and also he'd given the boy extra information - maybe he'd put two and two together a little earlier?

"Y'know," Harry repeated, after a pause. "I think I know what the robber was after." Harry looked perturbed - which made sense, really. What if Voldemort had had Quirrel go after it at the same time as Hagrid went down with Harry? What would have happened then?

"You do?" Ron asked, feigning surprise.

"Yeah," Harry nodded. "When Hagrid - Hogwarts' gamekeeper - took me to Gringotts, we went to a vault he needed to collect something from to give to the Headmaster before mine." Harry thought for a little bit longer. "It was - a little pouch. Something that could fit in your fist."

"Huh." Ron pretended to think for a moment - but he couldn't exactly give away anything. Even if they knew a lot of what they needed to know from the Chocolate Frog Card, and they knew now about the package at Gringotts being a potentially sought after object, they didn't have enough concrete information to piece that together and come up with Nicholas Flamel's Philosopher's stone being kept at hogwarts behind a Cerberus, some deadly vines, a large number of keys, a chessboard, a troll, and a logic puzzle... and, of course, the Mirror of Erised.

"Maybe," Ron said. "It could be coincidence, but... who knows?"

"Yeah." Harry nodded, then echoed; "Who knows?"

The door chose, at that point, to slide open.

Oh. Malfoy. Ron couldn't keep an angry expression off of his face - thank Merlin for the well known feud between Weasleys and Malfoys and, oh yeah, the fact that Malfoy was always a purist git.

Malfoy walked in, flanked by his two goons Crabbe and Goyle, and looked at Harry with a lot more interest than he would ever do again in the future after this moment. So, he'd found out Harry was Harry Potter, then.

Last time, after this confrontation, Harry had told Ron about his first meeting with Malfoy. It had been actually pretty funny, how the prat acted and assumed so many things that he missed Harry Potter was standing next to him. Granted, Harry was nothing like what the wizarding world tended to assume their child saviour would be, but there was no mistaking him for anyone else, really. Enough well-meaning people had seen the kid in the muggle world that they at least had a good idea of what he looked like, if not the rest - so a pretty decent likeness of Harry's was splashed across a lot of things, from history books to fiction works made for kids. And adults, too, people liked to tell the story of his parents and what happened, the tragedy of their friend's betrayal.

Funny, how wrong they got all of it.

"Is it true?" Malfoy said. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"

"Well, what do you think?" Ron asked, sarcastic. "No - no, Malfoy, he's Henry Porter, how could you not know that?"

Harry snorted.

Malfoy glared at Ron. "Well, there's no need to ask who you are, mudblood -"

Its honestly hilarious how much of an idiot Malfoy is. Quite frankly, he's not even a very good Slytherin.

Ron snorted. "Wow," He said. "You're an actual arse, aren't you?" Ron shook his head. "Merlin..." He rolled his eyes. "Saying a slur like that in front of Harry Potter... the son of a muggle-born and a Potter?" Ron glared at the blonde, as he stood.

Malfoy's face tinged pink momentarily, more with anger than anything else.

"What's a..." Harry trailed off, likely given Ron's reaction to that fucking word. Ron grimaced. "...It's - ... mudblood's a slur. It means 'dirty blood' - people like this prat use it to refer to witches and wizards that have entirely muggle heritage."

"Because we're better," Malfoy snapped, standing taller.

"I'm a Malfoy," Malfoy added. "Draco Malfoy. It really would be in your best interests to accept my offer; we're very... influential, much more so than him." Malfoy sneerd at Ron for a second, then held out his hand to shake Harry's, but Harry didn't take it.

"I think I can tell who I should be friends with for myself, thanks," Harry said coolly.

Malfoy didn't go red, but a pink tinge appeared in his pale cheeks.

Ron, knowing what had happened last time, while Malfoy was distracted, opened Scabbers' cage. The one good thing the rat (not Pettigrew, who at least might have done some good in his youth, but what Ron had only known as his pet rat for months at that point) ever did was about to come up, and well. Might as well let him.

"I'd be careful if I were you, Potter," he said slowly. "Unless you're a bit politer you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them, either. You hang around with riffraff like the mudblood and that Hagrid, and it'll rub off on you."

Both Harry and Ron stood up.

"Say that again," Ron said, his face as red as his hair. "That's an awful fucking word, regardless of whether or not I am actually muggleborn."

"And Hagrid's a good man," Harry glared. "More than I can say about you."

"Either that or the son of a blood traitor," Malfoy sneered, then turned his attention to Harry. "Oh, you're going to fight us, are you?" Malfoy sneered.

* * *

"Unless you get out now," said Harry, more bravely than he felt, because Crabbe and Goyle were a lot bigger than him or Ron.

"But we don't feet like leaving, do we, boys? We've eaten all our food and you still seem to have some."  
Goyle reached toward the Chocolate Frogs next to Ron - Ron leapt forward, but before he'd so much as touched Goyle, Goyle let out a horrible yell.

Scabbers the rat was hanging off his finger, sharp little teeth sunk deep into Goyle's knuckle - Crabbe and Malfoy backed away as Goyle swung Scabbers round and round, howling, and when Scabbets finally flew off and hit the window, all three of them disappeared at once. Perhaps they thought there were more rats lurking among the sweets, or perhaps they'd heard footsteps, because a second later, Hermione Granger had come in.

"What has been going on?" she said, looking at the sweets all over the floor and Ron picking up Scabbers by his tail.

I think he's been knocked out," Ron said to Harry. He looked closer at Scabbers. "No - I don't believe it - he's gone back to sleep-"

...

* * *

After that, everything went very much the same until Hagrid finished knocking on the castle's door.

A very large notifi-scroll appeared in his vision. Ron cursed mentally then paused the game, and read it.

You've finished The Tutorial! You can replay the levels whenever you want - just talk to [Rubeus Hagrid]. If you want to grind, ask [Red Riding Hood] to teleport you where you want to go in any previous Instance.

Now, for a game update! Sorry, not sorry, we've needed to do this for ages. Everything will go black for a bit, but don't worry yourself! That's fine. Just wait. After, there will be a cutscene, and you'll be dropped back into play during the sorting ceremony or 'Book One; Chapter One; Main Quest: Get Sorted!'

Have fun!

Then, of course, everything went black. Ron glanced around the nothingness, then sighed explosively.

"Red?" He asked, and the girl in question popped into existance next to him.

"I've never been to The Void before," She said, interest clear. "Are we in limbo, Ron?"

"No," Ron said. "Loading, I think."

"Fun," She said.


End file.
